


The Forgetful Reincarnation

by ErinNovelist



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Modern Era, Post Season/Series 05, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinNovelist/pseuds/ErinNovelist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Camlann, Merlin escorted Arthur to the Lake of Avalon, only to have him arrive already dead. In a last attempt to save the life of his King, Merlin gathered his magic, casting a spell to save his destiny. The spell did not bring back life but rather the promise of life, and the magic reached out to everyone who was a part of the Once and Future King’s destiny and would bring them back once more to aide Arthur when he should rise again. The spell took everything Merlin had, and in the end, it killed him, and he soon joined his king on Avalon’s shores. A thousand years later, the reincarnations are born again, but things did not turn out as planned. Everyone except Merlin remembers their past lives in Camelot. They must find him and get him to recall the past in order to face the newest threat before time runs out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My dearest readers,
> 
> Now that Season 5 has premiered and is done with, thus ending the Merlin series, I needed my own way of healing the frayed strings of the the journey. The journey of Merlin is not over for me, because Merlin was still waiting, but the ending brought forth this story idea I began so long ago and I edited the prologue to fit my AU ending of season 5. For the sake of this story, I have changed the ending of Merlin (5x13), just for clarification, as Merlin and Arthur struggled to get to Avalon, Morgana cried over Mordred's grave, true tears of remorse for what happened, that she broke an enchantment Morgause had placed before in order to corrupt her and mold her into the evil High Priestess. I feel like her character deserved more, so I had her, in this AU ending, track Arthur and Merlin down, trying to help, but ends up getting killed by Merlin, and on her death bed, explain what happened, prompting Merlin to give her a proper resting and a chance for a better future. In the end, Merlin tried to save Arthur, regardless of what Kilgarrah said and ended up casting the Reincarnation Spell that extended far beyond his limit and ultimately killed him.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you read, and I hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Erin
> 
> P.S. I used the actors' names in this story for my own sake because I hate the idea of naming Merlin reincarnations after their past lives - it just doesn't make sense. So, when they do remember, I will address them as their past lives consistently, though, I promise.

**Prologue**  
 _"There's not garuntee that this will be easy._  
It's not a miracle you need, believe me.  
I'm no angel, I'm just me, but I will be endlessly."  
\- Endlessly by The Cab  


* * *

There are _legends._

They say that Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King, was the greatest leader that Europe had ever seen until he fell at the Battle of Camlann. They say that Merlin, the most powerful sorcerer, served as his protector and advisor, eventually succumbing to the enchantment of the Lady of the Lake, dying in the Crystal Cave. They say that Morgana Pendragon, better known as Morgan Le Fay, was the wicked witch who stole Excalibur from her brother, later reconciling and taking him to his final resting place. They say that Queen Guinevere, the love of Arthur's life, betrayed him with his most loyal knight, effectively leading to his downfall. They say the Knights of the Round Table served their king valiantly, although some turned on him in the worst possible ways.

They tell the stories of so many individuals, from King Uther Pendragon to the Lady of the Lake, who created the legends we still speak of today.

They say that when the world is in need of their Once and Future King, he will return – whether to set the world right or repeat the events of the past. They say it is his destiny.

There are legends, but they are _wrong_.

Yes, the legends are _real_.

In truth, Albion _did_ exist, but the events and characters surrounding its creation and prosperity are completely different. The true story was warped and twisted through time, changes falling with each tongue's retelling, until it was unrecognizable to even those who had a vague idea of the correct history. Those who have heard the truth, though, know better than to believe the modern culture's lies.

They say that Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King, united all five kingdoms as one nation, the golden age the poets spoke of, the land of Albion. They say that Merlin, the greatest warlock ever known, the Emrys of the prophecies, aided, guided, and protected the Once and Future King so that his destiny could be achieved. They say that Morgana Pendragon, the counterpart of the powerful Emrys, had her destiny intertwined with the Once and Future King's all on her own accord. They say that Guinevere, the Once and Fture Queen, shaped the Once and Future King so that he would always remain pure of heart. They say that the Knights of the Round Table fought valiantly in the Once and Future King's name so that his reign would be long and prosperous.

They know how it all started – and how it all ended.

King Uther Pendragon began the story, harnessing a hostile outlook towards magic and all sorcerers; he hunted down all magical creatures during the Great Purge. Arthur Pendragon was born of magic, his mother perishing as a side effect, and became the greatest king ever known, overcoming prejudice to right the world as a fair and just land. Guinevere was his Once and Future Queen, but before that, she was a mere serving girl, the daughter of a blacksmith, the maid of the beautiful Lady Morgana. Morgana Pendragon was the half-sister of King Arthur, unknowingly the secret daughter of Uther, and she possessed great magical abilities but corrupted by the power it brought, eventually succumbing to fate's predestined plans. Merlin wasn't the old man of legend but rather a farm boy from a village called Ealdor, born of magic and the last Dragonlord, the manservant of the King who later was revealed to be the great Emrys who protected his King to the end. The Knights of the Round Table were as noble as they were originally portrayed but not all had noble blood and they swore loyalty to the King, always placing their lives at risk for the King.

The legends themselves spoke of heroic tales and bloody battles, but the ending of the story, above all else, is the most misunderstood. In the end, it is said that King Arthur died at the hands of Mordred in the Battle of Camlann; what happens after that was a mystery to all. Some believe he was transformed into a raven for all of eternity; the hopeful few swear that Arthur's body was hidden in a magical cave, only to reawaken when Britain is in need of their beloved king once more.

The truth of the matter was that Mordred mortally wounded Arthur at Camlann and was killed afterwards by the King himself, but Camelot's ruler did not die on the battlefield. He was escorted to the Lake of Avalon to be healed by his faithful servant and friend, Merlin, but the two were too late, and Merlin sent Arthur on a boat into Avalon. However, a regretful Morgana intercepted them on their journey, tears falling at the realization of what she had done, never getting the chance to be forgiven for her deeds after a plea of redemption (it was later understood that the witch had been enchanted by her sister, Morgause, and ultimately lost herself along the way, finally breaking the curse when she truly cried tears of remorse at Mordred's death). Merlin, unknowing of her switch of loyalties, ran her through with Excalibur; however, after witnessing the truth, he placed her alongside her half-brother in Avalon.

In a last ditch effort by the young warlock as an attempt to save Arthur, heal his wounds, and bring about the Golden Age of Albion as his Court Sorcerer, the faithful protector by his King's side. But something went wrong: it didn't pour life into the dying Arthur but rather brought the _promise of life_ of for everyone. Fearing that he had failed destiny, Merlin performed the most powerful spell he could, using all of his magic to save the fading destiny all his friends and allies were meant to share. His magic weaved an intricate web into fate's stitch work, setting about the turn of events so that, upon death, all the legendary figures - all of Arthur's friends, allies, and enemies - would return in a time when the fulfillment of destiny could be performed.

The spell was so complex and complicated that it took all of his magic, including his very own soul because in all sense _Merlin_ was _magic_ , to complete. The young warlock died after he breathed the last word of his spell, crystal orbs flashing a molten gold before fading forever as Merlin joined Arthur and Morgana in Avalon, only to open nearly two thousand years later when the souls were reincarnated, setting about a new destiny.

The prophetic events happened _differently_ than originally believed.

The Once and Future King would return, but instead of him alone with his immortal sorcerer, the rest of his past would accompany him.

Arthur Pendragon, the King of the forgotten Camelot, would return as the golden child, the son of a millionaire lawyer. The fair-haired, wide-eyed warrior was now Bradley.

Guinevere, always remembered but had her good name twisted by the deads of Shaded Lancelot, would return as the roommate of the once beloved Lady. The dark-haired beauty was now Angel.

Morgana, the seductive and corrupted with, would return as the adopted daughter of Anthony, the once King Uther, brother of Bradley, and successful college student. The all-powerful sorceress was now Katie, whose destiny would be of her own accord this time.

The Knights of the Round Table, the loyal warriors and protectors of Camelot, would return attempting to find their own unique future and gather together amidst one another. The friends and sometimes sworn-enemies were now strong and independent brothers, trying to gather their lost family.

And Merlin, the renowned Emrys of Albion, would return as the outcast, the homeless boy who is just trying to make ends meet. The loyal and pure-hearted manservant was now a cold-hearted survivor, Colin.

The return of the legendary figures will only raise warning bells for the now extinct Albion and the rest of the oblivious world. Their return signals the return of numerous enemies and allies alike, all attempting to unite against or alongside the source of magic which brought them all back.

Merlin had done it; he had ended the legend, but nothing would turn out the way he imagined. In the future, Albion was gone; magic was forgotten; and the memories were too well hidden to be remembered.

Did the legend even have a chance to be continued?


	2. Destiny's Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Richard is Gaius. Caroline is Hunith. Alice is Queen Ygraine. Pauline is Alice from "Love in the Time of Dragons". Tony is Uther Pendragon. Bradley is Authur Pendragon. Tom is just Tom, father of Elyan and Guinevere. Hope that clears up the confusion for the most part.

**Chapter One**  
 _"Is it over yet? Can I open my eyes?_  
Is this as hard as it gets?  
Is this what it feels like to really cry?"  
-Cry by Kelly Clarkson

* * *

Richard had never been sentimental guy.

He often let a Christmas pass without a word of holiday greeting to his patients, and once, when he had been married to Pauline, their anniversary went unnoticed. Fortunately, no one placed much blame on the then forty-seven-year-old, having spent most of his life engaged to his career as a doctor in central New York City at Westside Memorial. Fresh out of medical school, he had settled in an apartment with his fiancée turned wife and served long hours and endless nights on call for those in need. Pauline happened to own a private clinic across the city, so she shared the same passion for medicine as well as the same time schedule.

Nonetheless, Richard regretted his occasional lapse in feeling every so often, especially during one frigid night in early December, shortly after his forty-seventh birthday, when a drunken semi-driver collided with a taxi cab on the corner of Wall Street.

It was such an evening when Richard's regrets became a permanent fixture in his heart as Pauline's heart monitor flat lined, the bellowing screech audible in the waiting room where the widowed spouse now stood, his wife the only victim of the accident. Though twenty-two years eventually passed, starting with Richard taking over his wife's clinic and proceeding onwards, he always desired a certain day back. When you love someone, Richard swore, you must let it be known each and every day or the person will be nothing more than a worthless figment in the back of your mind. Granted he developed such a philosophy after Pauline, it carried him through the long hours and endless nights afterwards.

Shortly after Pauline left his life, the first memory struck.

At first, images ran like a picture movie across his mind's eye, seeming like a hallucination of a visual and auditory delusion. It was uncanny what his overworked brain could imagine after forty years without some form of rest. The concept of sleep was lost on him, Pauline used to joke, and when the memories first began, they came when his head finally hit the pillow after hours of constant surveillance and attention, so he paid them no heed in the beginning. The dreams, however, continued to crash upon him. They flooded his mental senses until he bolted up in bed, blankets askew, sweat lining his brow.

The memories soon took over his conscious hours as well. From dawn to dusk, he heard the murmured incantations, smelled the burning flesh stemming from a pyre, felt the lingering effects of nonexistent magic leaving his fingertips, and saw the full-tooth grin of the long forgotten ward he swore to always protect.

_Merlin_.

Thoughts of the young boy who lived with his heart on his sleeve and saw the goodness in all aspects of the world haunted him. For the next few months, he remembered the life he had once lived and accepted that he was living once more. They showed his thriving position as Camelot's court physician, Alice (Pauline in this life) striding at his side. He remembered King Uther Pendragon's request and the Great Purge that followed, all the while aiding his loved ones in escape and cradling the newborn Arthur to his chest, the only proof that Ygraine once lived. Hunth's tears as she came to him for confirmation of the child growing inside her womb shortly after Balinor was forced to flee Ealdor. The near-death experience the naïve, young boy named Merlin had saved him from. The fire separating him from his ward's body years later as Camelot almost descended into chaos – the haunting stares of Merlin, Arthur, and Morgana burned into his mind.

He remembered it all, and he took it in stride. By then, Richard had accepted that he was Gaius and that Pauline was Alice, and this time around, fate had granted him some time with his beloved before wrenching her from his life. He never reacted to the memories, just soaking it up, fondly looking back on the blessings he had before, never acting upon it until the blinding smile of Ygraine met his eyes, shimmering tears of joy streaking her rosy cheeks, a mere three years after the first memory.

Two months since the conception planned for centuries, Ygraine (more commonly known as Alice in this life) had seemingly no lingering idea of past events and no chance to wonder if they were to repeat. Even her strong, strapping husband, Tony, showed no signs of recognition when he met Gaius's handshake with a firm and unyielding grip. The future, Gaius feared, that would mimic their past lives began to unfold, leaving the doctor with his gut twisting into knots. It would be seven months – a full two hundred and seventeen days – before the Once and Future King was reborn.

Some time later, Gaius stood over the couple's suggestions of names for their baby boy, contently relinquishing his thoughts on their blissful ignorance. Perhaps there was a chance that Arthur wouldn't have to go through the hardships originally predicated for the second time around. However, he would never forget the hollow thud of his heart when Ygraine narrowed the choices down to Arthur or Bradley, pleading Tony to pick the final outcome. Gaius failed to notice Tony's flinch on the name "Arthur" as he settled for Bradley straight away.

Gaius instead focused on Ygraine's preparation for a comfortable delivery which would lead to her last moment before leaving her beloved husband for a second and final time.

In the first few months of her pregnancy, Gaius grew close to the family and tried to pretend that the events would not repeat themselves. He kept reminding himself that if Ygraine's reincarnation survived, which it appeared she would, all would be well. Part of him strayed to the existence of said woman in the first place: how did they all end up back here?

Gaius knew that Merlin cast a spell on the shores of Avalon to "save his destiny". Perhaps Merlin's spell intertwined complexity within the magic, and instead of saving lives, it created them, and ended up weaving too many lives into the spell, ultimately bringing back everyone ever involved in Merlin's destiny which included Ygraine and Alice and Uther. It was more than the lives, Gaius thought, that Merlin, if he did know what he was doing, intended for. The warlock had unintentionally promised another chance at life for almost everyone in the Arthurian legend. Perhaps this particular reason caused all of his ward's magic to pool into one specific spell, draining him of all strength necessary for survival.

He died after that spell, Gaius recalled, slumped over the physician, struggling to breath as he joined Arthur and Morgana who passed before him merely minutes before.

To simply life without his surrogate son passed by bleak and colorless would diminish the meaning Merlin had in Gaius's life. Without Merlin, the world seized to spin, just emptiness on an axis; after that fateful day, he counted the days till he would see his ward at the Gates of Avalon. However, when the scythe finally slashed upon him, he snapped his eyes shut and awoke in the dark bedroom as Richard, remembering everything. It never fazed him; in all actuality, it never bothered whether he was Gaius or Richard – he was still the same person. His soul stemmed from either essence. He accepted the memories as a part of him, but as Gaius or Richard, he still didn't have Merlin with him.

Gaius knew the other reincarnations would eventually remember when Ygraine lay on the hospital bed, fighting for the right to even breathe. She was given the newborn Bradley to hold during the last few seconds and her eyes widened in astonishment, running a blood-stained finger across her son's cheek. His bottom lip quivered but he refused to cry. She held on longer than expected, allowing no one to force her to give up her hold until she was truly ready to die. Even when she drifted into conscious and her heart began to fail, the tight grasp remained on her son; no one was able to pull him away until she was gone. Yet she still clung to Bradley as a lifeline when Tony reached for him from his mother's cold embrace.

It was then, when Bradley and Tony were both touching her that she whispered with her last breath: "I remember, Uther."

Gaius realized that Tony, King Uther himself, did as well as he lowered his lips to Ygraine's cold ones. "I do too, my love. I have for a while. I will do it right this time. I swear on your life I shall do it right." Gaius didn't have the heart to tell Uther that she couldn't hear him.

Gaius left the widow and his son to mourn the loss of Ygraine, and he pictured Uther's wrath as he lashed out at magic last time around. In the present, however, he took it all with a stern grief, choosing to suffer in silence for the inevitable occurrence. Destiny may have given them a second chance but not in this particular scene. Gaius returned some time later to remove Bradley from Uther's care in order to place him with the nurses to be checked over. The man wordlessly gave the babe over and as the doctor turned to leave, he cleared him throat.

"You couldn't save her this time either," he stated.

Gaius met his far-off gaze. "It appears so. I am sorry for your loss, Mr. James. Alice grew close to me during these past seven months; I too share in your grief."

"Her name was Ygraine. I know you remember." Gaius nodded, and the younger man sighed. "As do I, Gaius."

"How long have you known?"

"Long enough to know what I did was wrong." Gaius was curious as to what changed Uther's view on magic and prevented him from going into a blind rage this time.

Uther seemed to read the doctor's mind and he let a wry smile slip onto his face. "Magic is eradicated from the realm, Gaius; it can't corrupt anyone. I can't blame Ygraine's death on a sorcerer this time. Besides, I know it was magic that brought us back, and it proved to be a good thing… Tell me do you know which sorcerer is responsible for a such a thing?"

Gaius blew out a hesitant breath and stated with pride, "My ward, Merlin, was a warlock. He gave us all a second chance without knowing so. You have him to thank." It was only a matter of minutes, he assumed, before Uther would burst out in accusations of betrayal for the false ally in the war against magic back in Camelot. Before he had time to prepare himself, though, Bradley opened his eyes, looked directly at Gaius with a look of an aged soul. It took the doctor's breath away, and he cradled the newborn close. He knew that look. Bradley was Arthur Pendragon.

Uther's voice broke through his thoughts. "He was like a son to you, wasn't he? That boy."

Merlin's last smile staid with Gaius, etched in his memories forever, the ones of the rave boy who gave up his life for all he cared for and believed in. Every night he pressed his head against the pillow, and the warlock accompanied his dreams; the final image was always his farewell smile.

"He was."

Uther nodded, comprehension dominating his features; still shaken from his wife's death, he was tempted to place the blame on whatever aspect of life he could, just like he did before, calling magic out as a scape goat. He wanted to go through the motions, leaving the rest of the world behind. "I understand why you kept this from me. No father can ever watch their son suffer." Gaius raised his head in surprise. "I… I wish to apologize, Gaius, for everything I did. I was blinded by rage and grief at the loss of Ygraine…" Uther choked on his words, tears shining in the corners of his eyes. "So many people were killed at my hand… Innocents, Gaius. I murdered hundred, and I will live with that for the rest of my life." His gaze softened as he spared a quick glance at Bradley. "I regret many things, but I promise, this time it will all be different. For example… I will be a better father."

At these final words, Uther resigned himself to sit beside Ygraine, lost in his memories of better days. Gaius made a leave from the delivery room and towards the nursery; Bradley squirmed slightly in his arms. In truth, the mention of his and Merlin's past relationships sparked tears to prick in the doctor's eyes; he was attacked by a wave of sandess as he handed the baby to a nurse. Now, more than ever, he longed for his ward's presence, calling upon all the magic in the world to bring his reincarnation forward.

As the grief ripped through him, Gaius's silent plea echoed into Avalon.

_Merlin._

Across the world, a mighty dragon answered with a deafening roar. Destiny had, once again, begun.

* * *

**Two Years Later**

* * *

His hot breath tickled her neck as the olive-toned hand stroked the sweat-tangled curls, the moment repetitive in order to sooth the flailing woman. His throaty chuckled reverberated off of the interior of the taxi cab, sending tremors of relief through her body, hitching as the pain rippled across her lower abdomen. He laid is hand on her stomach so he could feel her contractions, counting the seconds to soothe her.

"Let me know when the next one hits, alright, Caroline?" His toffee eyes met her own dull, steel-blue ones over her bents knees, holding a glimmer of excitement for the miracles of birth he was witnessing. "Your water already broken, so it won't be much longer."

"How… How do you know… so much?" she gasped out through gritted teeth, gulping as the pain stole away her ability of speech.

He needed and reached down to grasp her hand in a reassuring manner. "My daughter was born last year; it just so happened to be in the back of a cab as well. What can I say? New York traffic sucks."

Before she could form an answer, she let out a loud cry and pulled her hand away from the man who had convinced the taxi driver to pick up a pregnant woman on the streets of New York City on New Year's Eve. On the late December night, a blizzard struck the unsuspecting citizens, the snow sprinkling around them in heavy amounts. The woman had felt the first contractions begin when she stepped out of her apartment building, and she bolted to the sidewalk, eager for a taxi to transport her to hospital for the awaited occasion nine months in the making. However, the storm made travel near impossible and traffic had piled back for miles on end, stranding her in the heart of the city about to give birth to a baby.

Thankfully, a kind Samaritan had pulled up alongside her as a contraction took control, forcing her to double over with a low moan. Understanding the current situation, he escorted her into the waiting car. They were fighting through traffic, but it was obvious the baby would be born on a New York street in the back of a filthy taxi.

The woman grabbed her knees as the urge to push became overwhelming; the stranger murmured low words of encouragement, and the taxi driver grimaced from the position behind the man who was between the woman's legs, guiding the newborn into the world as the woman lounging across the backseat delivered it. The driver had flung the door open the man took charge of her labor, retrieving the necessities from a department store traffic had conveniently paused alongside of. He had braked the car, and now, the chorus of impatient horns sounded with frustration at the late evening. Having been New Years, it was no wonder chaos ensued.

"The baby's head is out," the man announced, tilting it to the side to allow any fluid in the mouth to escape. A tuft of raven hair was already visible; it mirrored its mother. "Just a few more pushes, Caroline, and it'll be over soon."

She bore down again, and the right shoulder was dislodged, and he placed his hands on it to guide it out steadily. When Caroline let out a shriek after another push, he twisted the left side and managed to free the other shoulder in a matter of seconds. Another contraction sparked the loudest cry, and Caroline bore down one last time and with a gush of fluid, the infant was free. The wailing began from the baby and the man used the scissors the driver handed over and severed the umbilical chord; another minute passed, and she delivered the afterbirth. The driver let out a disgusted groan, but the man ignored the reaction and swaddled the baby in a soft blanket before placing it in Caroline's frail arms.

"Congratulation: you have a baby boy."

She shook her head in defiance, not accepting of her son. "Get him away from me. Take him. Give him to the hospital. I don't care."

"It's your son!" the man retorted, flabbergasted by Caroline's reaction. The driver shimmied into the front of the taxi, closing the door, and put the car in gear, trying to get the woman to the hospital. Traffic seemed to be moving along better, and they were five minutes from the hospital.

"Mister-"

"Tom."

"Tom, you don't understand. I can't take care of him. And if he turns out to have his father's talents- then… There's no hope. Please, I can't give him a good life. Put him in foster care, take him as your own – I don't care. Anywhere is better than with me."

"I'm not doing that."

Caroline dug into her purse, breathing heavily, sweat-soaked hair plastered across her face. She fumbled for a moment before raising a pocket knife in a trembling hand; the man held the baby close, pulling away in horror. She shook her head, insistent on the demand. "Take him."

Tom looked down upon the bundle which had seized its shrieking cries, staring at him with an alert expression. It startled him for he knew it was impossible for infants to truly focus on their surroundings such as this one appeared to be, almost pleading him to trust his instincts. Once his thoughts drifted to the newborn and a quick glance at the worn-out mother, he settled on his decision. Hastily reaching into his jacket pocket, he withdrew a few crumbled bills and placed them in Caroline's hands. She nodded in understanding, knowing full on that Tom would obey her wishes. With unsteady hands, she reached towards her son, wanting to stroke his forehead as a final farewell, but at the last second, she snatched her hand away.

She would regret it for the next two decades.

Tomcast a look of disgust as she put the knife at her side. "Why are you doing this?" he questioned as he pulled the boy closer to him for warmth. When Caroline ducked her head from view, he sighed to himself. "Take the money and get your life together." He shook his head, pitying the woman's rash decision. "Someday, you're going to want to him back. I guarantee it."

Crystal eyes locked with her baby's. "Just take him."

"We're here," the driver state, and both people in the back jumped in surprise, having forgotten where they were.

Tom followed the command, wrenching the door open, the frigid air embracing the remaining occupants' dazed forms, and bolted down the sidewalk to the emergency room. With a shaky breath, Caroline raised her hand to the transparent glass, the only barrier between she and her son as she watched him disappear for what she thought would be forever.

"Take me to Dr. Wilson's clinic on fourteenth street, please," she begged, feeling the throbbing increase with her exhaustion. She could no loner see Tom and her baby. She whispered a final goodbye as the cab shifted gears. "Take care. May the gods watch over you, Merlin."

The flash of recognition faded as quickly as the old memories stirred. Hunith of Ealdor had changed destiny. This time around – Emrys would have no one.

* * *

Gaius reclined in his desk hair, fingers drumming a rhythmic tune on the oak wood tabletop, attempting to pulling himself from the consuming thoughts he was faced with. The image of Caroline – Hunith – arriving with blood trailing down her legs, staining her garments and his floor, the familiar sight of her once toned stomach bulging as if pregnant. His worse fears were erupting as he ushered her into his office, knowing who she once was and the person she was destined to give birth too. However, the blood caused his heart to swell and choke off his air supply. Nothing could happen to Merlin's reincarnation or the world was doomed. When he checked her over, the horrid truth was revealed as tears streamed down his and Hunith's face.

"I gave birth in the back of a cab," she stammered, "The baby was dead."

Gaius closed his eyes, unable to believe her story. "Where is the boy, Caroline?"

"With his father." Gaius didn't need any further explanation; he knew where the boy's father was.

Eventually, he cleaned her and set her in an adjourning room to keep watch throughout the night, his body numbing and thoughts still. Within five hours, when he dozed in his office, he later learned, Hunith had escaped back to her apartment and packed her belongings and then fled the city, leaving Gaius with no connection to his ward whatsoever. What was left was a single envelope sitting on the window. Quickly, he opened it and saw her cursive, elegant scrawling. He had been unable to read it at the time, choosing to return to his office where he had privacy and tensed before dwelling within.

_Gaius,_

He swallowed a lump in his throat. She remembered.

_Gaius,_

_I know the turn of events much be a shock to you. My son's death has taken a toll on me, and I must leave before I break completely. I imagine it's as difficult for you as well. I would give anything to have spared you the grief and sadness that I'm feeling. After all, it hurts even the second time around, considering he was once your ward._

Even though he mourned the loss of destiny, he still was in shock that Hunith remembered and had never spoken of it the night before. She must have understood the devastation the baby's death would cause, hence leaving the elderly man with no explanation as to why she choose to dispose of the body where the father was – at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Why not give him a proper burial though, especially considering the events in their past lives?

_For the past few months, I have been struck with vivid memories of life in Ealdor, and I remembered how I reacted to news of Merlin's death and the words I wished I could have told him. You wouldn't understand, though, because it was you who held him in your arms, reassuring him in his last moments. Please bear with me when I tell you that I needed to deal with my baby on my own terms. I don't regret it, even though I knew you would want to see him one last time._

_Gaius, it wasn't an easy choice to make. I know I should have brought his body back to you, but you must understand. I loved my son – in both lives. One because he was the only thing I had left of dear Balinor, my dear John. I know that love at first sight is a stupid idea since when I met John I was twenty-two and had stupid ideas of what love was, but I knew instantly from the moment I met him that he was the man I would love forever. I still do. I will continue to love him till the day I die and onto the next life if I have one. A thousand years may separate us, but my feelings will never change. I want to thank you for bringing John into my life. Because of you, you made us so happy up until the end._

Gaius closed his eyes as the sudden predication of what direction the letter as heading hit him full force. He knew that as Hunith, she had wanted Merlin to be buried near his father even after he had told her of his death and resting place along the shores of Avalon with his father. He inhaled deeply as he forced himself to continue her letter.

_When John and I were together, it was really something incredible. We had so little, but yet all we really needed was each other. When he was called out of the Witness Protection Program, we thought we could have it all. That man would be put away forever because he murdered those people. With that horrible man gone, we cold get married and start a family. But the day John was killed in court returned all my dreams. I was lost, Gaius; it was Balinor all over again. Somehow, though, much like before, I was left with a part of him after he was already gone._

_At first, through the nine months I carried Merlin, all I could think about was how I could provide for him, keep him safe, give him everything he needed. But the moment I came for the ultrasound months ago, I began to have my memories._

_And it scared me even more._

_There was a reason John survived the first attempt on his life. He had magic, Gaius, and I knew that my son would have it too. In the past, he suffered so much because of it, and I couldn't let that happen. Magic took him away from me in the end, and even if he weren't dead today, I wouldn't have let destiny have him. I told myself I would keep him away from everything this time. You were the one who held him in the end, not me. You were with him when he was in pain or had fears and insecurities or when he thrived. Because Merlin had magic, I couldn't be there for him. I'm not sure I could have been there for him this time too._

_In the end, I wanted it to just be my son and me.. Last time, you had him. This time I held him. Last time, you buried him with his friends. This time I buried him with his father. I know I should have brought him to you, but I needed it to just be a peaceful and silent rest. I wanted to spare him the pain he would have had if he met you and everyone else in his destiny. I'm not happy he's dead, but I want you to know he's better off as._

_Thank you for everything, Gaius. I will never forget you or your kindness._

_Hunith_

_P.S. Don't try to find me. I want to get away from everything._

Gaius placed the note on his desk, eyes glazed over with sheen of tears. He vowed himself not to cry, but a single droplet dripped down his face. He wanted to deny the letter's existence, but in doing so, he'd lose the one link he had to Merlin. He couldn't believe it. Destiny was meant to continue; Arthur was here, and Merlin, for a short time, had as well. It didn't make sense, though. How could the person who caused all of this die before beginning it? The doctor reclined in his chair, placing his head in his hands, rubbing his temples to relieve the throbbing headache. There was no guarantee about the future anymore. If Merlin wasn't alive, how would destiny continue? The legends spoke that when Albion's need was greatest, Arthur would rise again. Gaius knew that it was unachievable without Merlin.

He had to do something. There had to be a solution. Internally, his heart picked up speed, and the answer flooded through his veins for the first time in centuries, a millennia even. Destiny appeared to have wanted to right itself; with or without Merlin, Gaius realized, destiny would continue. He didn't have another choice. There had to be someone on this Earth who remembered, who knew of what was to come.

Gaius had to find someone. A Seer. The next prophet. Perhaps a dragon or two. There was only one problem: it would take magic to do it. In a haste, Gaius bolted from his chair, throwing his office door open. As he stepped out into the blistery night, he had no idea where he was going. In the span of a few hours, he would follow Hunith's example and pack a bag, board a plane, and set out across the world in search for an answer – anything really.

For the first time in thousands of years, Gaius's eyes flared a deep molten gold, the magic leaving his fingertips.

All he knew is that he would find someway to jumpstart destiny. He might as well start where it all began and ended; it was time to go home.


	3. Reticent

  


In this chapter, remember. Bradley is Arthur. Tony is Uther. Katie is Morgana, and Angel is Guinevere.

**Spoilers for Season 5 in this chapter.**  
  
Erin

* * *

  
**Chapter Two**   
_"You and me, face to face,_   
_And there's so much I could say._   
_Who needs words when forever seen the silence."_   
_\- "Laserlight" by Jessie J_   


* * *

When Bradley was twelve years old, his father told him the truth.

It wasn't a heart-stopping, gut-twisting revelation because the only thing which changed was that he grew closer to her, more than ever before. Honestly, even that wasn't a profound impact on the boy since she had been a part of his life for the past few years, so he already considered her a sister.

After her own father's death, Katie Fay had been taken under Tony's wing, the lawyer adopting the young girl when she was seven, three years prior. As she grew, only two years his junior, it became common to find similarities between her and his father. Bradley always assumed it was habits Katie had caught onto, even though some of her behaviors were too uncanny to believe – such as the same stubborn streak that led her and his father into many battles. However, when it came to physical features, it was even more unbelievable. He never could explain why she had the same dark features Tony did while both her parents were fair-haired and bright-eyed. Whenever the unusual observations hit, he always tried to find a logical explanation, most of the time chalking it up to the mystery of human genetics.

Even when Tony came forward, though, Bradley had a hard time believing it.

For someone who was merely twelve years of age, on the borderline of childhood innocence and reality's dreamers, he could not grasp the idea of his father ever loving someone else who wasn't his mother. Tony constantly assured him that he would always love Alice, that he never stopped, but Bradley was always quick to retort that one could not have kids if they weren't in love, hence Katie's existence.

Of course, this prompted an hour-long conversation regarding the birds and the bees.

Seven years later, Bradley had accepted Katie as his half-sister. Though he couldn't imagine how she dealt with the situation, with her guardian turning out to be a liar as well as her biological father, she appeared to have accepted him in her life as well after some time. However, that did not stop her from leaving home the first chance she got, hopping onto a plane and headed to Cambrige, nearly two hundred miles away (later, she transferred to Columbia in New York). Whatever made her leave in the first place, she at least returned, and Bradley knew he had a tight-knit family, with his sister and his father who he trusted wholeheartedly.

Bradley had a close relationship with Tony, especially after he was told the truth about Katie, and that was why Bradley kept lying to him.

You see, when Bradley was nineteen years old, his life was changed forever.

As cliché as that one statement may sound, it was that one statement which shaped his life from then on. Whenever he uttered that statement, all looked at him with an apprehensive gaze, trying to fathom what tragedy or miracle happened back then. Though he seldom breathes a word unless there's a chance they're dealing from it too, he always believed that nothing really changed; merely that he just accepted what and who he was.

It all began the morning after an argument with Tony when he awoke in a vacant hotel room. The stench of alcohol clung to his breath, and his clothes smelled of tobacco and cigarette smoke. A bag of cocaine had been setting beside him as well as a woman he had no memory of. His head throbbed to the speed of a hummingbird's heartbeat, and he stumbled around the room in a daze. He had no recollection of the night before, of what happened, or how far he went. All he knew was that days like these would eventually ruin his life.

The vague images that struck him were the piercing yells that echoed off of the walls, Katie defending him, his words of defiance. Tony had seen his acceptance letter, and Bradley blatantly told him that he was reconsidering law school to pursue an acting career. It was a stupid move, but, if there was one thing he looked up to his father for, it was for standing up for yourself. Katie jumped to her brother's defense, bellowing how it was his life and that Tony couldn't pressure him into doing something he wasn't happy with. It ended with Bradley storming from the house, unable to avoid further confrontation.

Lately, it seemed as if Tony had been pressuring his son more and more each day, reminding him that he had to be strong, be a leader. He said that people wouldn't respect you if you didn't have the strength to stand tall. Bradley honestly had no idea where the speech had come from, but, the moment he came of age, it had been constantly preached in the household that the words were forever etched in his mind. Nonetheless, Bradley took it all in, following it to the par, because this was his father and he always sought the elder's approval. Which was why he and his father never had any confrontations growing up, until the day he received his acceptance letter – they never stopped arguing since then. Bradley wished to find a common ground, but it was hard when Tony was constantly denying any sort of compromise he attempted.

The atypical predicament and constant caused Bradley to turn to his friends at the local club, drowning his sorrows in rounds of drinks and eventually falling into the god-awful drugs he had always been against. However, after that one last fight, Bradley headed to the club and fell deeper than ever before. In the morning, his beer-stained shirt clung to his torso as he stepped into the bathroom, heading straight for the toilet, succumbing himself to the hangover. Each wave of nausea that rolled over him seemed to be the final nails in the coffin, reiterating the fact that there was no going back from this.

He had finally hit his lowest point.

Admitting such a feat opened up an entire new world for Bradley, molding him into a completely different person because it opened up his memories.

As he sat, hunched over the toilet, propped on trembling hands, his body shaky from an internal earthquake, his vision began to darken, like a rush of blackness over his eyes, a blindfold – quick and fast. Hazy images danced at the forefront of his mind's eye, like a long-forgotten picture, but it seemed like he had always been able to remember. For as long as he was able to recall, the wide grin and crystal eyes, fading from the molten gold, was just part of a person he couldn't name. He didn't know who they were or where, only that in this moment in time, Bradley needed them so very desperately.

Unbeknownst to him, he had just unlocked a story of two boys that fathered a legend which was still told and honored today. It was the story of a blooming friendship that shouldn't have existed because of society's standards. It was the story of a painful past, the wounded present, and the promise of a healing future. It was a story that many had heard but only a few knew in truth. It was a story the world took as common knowledge but shattered others. This story – this legend – had been fathered long ago by an arrogant prince and a young warlock.

It just felt like he was trying to break through a wall shrouded in shadows. The memories may have faded deeply into his subconscious, but he knew they were still there, waiting to be triggered. They seemed dim and unrecognizable as he became accustomed to them all, but it only proved they were still there, always had been. If he closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough, the sound of swords clanging against one another on the training ground would echo through his head. The feel of calloused fingers putting his armor in place, adjusting the straps and handing him Excalibur. The addictive laugh that would have anyone smiling for days. The fondness he felt when the bright, blue eyes flashed with approval. These memories were _him. They were of home._ How ever could he forget them in the first place?

How could he forget _Merlin?_

Bradley needed him. _Arthur_ needed him. He wanted Merlin. Where was he?

Then and there, Arthur wanted to set out into the world, eager to find his lost friend. Perhaps Merlin already remembered the past and was looking for him as well. The thought forced a lump to form in his throat, and he struggled to swallow it. He reluctantly dragged up that final memory, and he knew that Merlin couldn't function well without his presence. Arthur wondered how long he could last without Merlin by his side as well. He needed to find Merlin…

But what if Merlin had changed?

Uther certainly had, and perhaps Merlin had as well. The thought scared him. He never wanted Merlin to be someone else.

_"I don't want you to change. I want you to always be you."_

His dying wish still echoed through his head at random intervals, but it just pushed him farther to find his old friend. In the search for the warlock, Arthur often found himself wondering if Merlin's memories had come through yet. If his loyalty and kindness still existed. If a friendship was still possible if the memories hadn't been retrieved. Throughout the journey, he faced a mixture of loss but also love. Everyone knows love and loss are the exact opposites, but Arthur was proving that they could not exist without one another. Love was the feeling of benevolent concern, and loss was shameful heartbreak. In Arthur's story, the pain of loss was leading to the close healing future filled with love. He knew that since Morgana, Uther, and him were here that Merlin and Gwen and his knights would be here somewhere. His story wasn't ever meant to show the causes of his loss but rather the scars of love.

Whether the past still existed - whether the Merlin as he remembered him to be still existed - was a question yet to be answered. However, Arthur knew, that wherever the others rested, he knew he'd be right next to them soon enough. For long ago, he made Merlin a promise, and Arthur, even now, hoped that Merlin, in the deepest depths of his mind's shadow, would someday recognize he kept it.

With his memories back, Arthur tried to set his life on track. He so desperately wanted to drop everything and seek out Merlin, but something was holding him back. He couldn't leave the life he had with Uther and Morgana. His father and he had never been as close as they were now, and Morgana and him were bona-fide siblings, banters and support included. For the first time since Camelot, he didn't want things to change. Instead of rebelling against Uther, he agreed to go to Harvard and pursue a degree in law and avoided any confrontation with his father, embracing their relationship as a new beginning. He chose to obey Uther's wishes rather than add coal to the flames.

At Harvard, he met the beautiful Angel Leodegrance who worked as a waitress on the corner coffee ship he frequently vacated. When Arthur came face-to-face with the doe-brown eyes, melted chocolate plastered across her soul, the world seized to exist. It was his beloved Guinevere. He quickly became aware that she had no memory of Camelot – or of him. He longed to continue his search for Merlin, but this obstacle too precedence. Arthur, upon discovering her, took it upon himself to memorize her work schedule and set out to meet her on a regular basis. After the tenth or so meeting, he asked her out for dinner, and when she agreed, he could feel some semblance of his old life return. Having Guinevere offer her unwavering support kept his head barely above the dark waves of addiction, but to fully overcome them, he knew he needed Merlin on his side. Since he couldn't go after his old friend, though, he made it his primary mission to help her regain her memories. He assumed it would be quiet difficult.

However, much like Arthur's memories came when he was at his lowest point, hers came at her highest.

It was their tenth or so date when it happened. By then, the young couple were familiar with one another, and the initial awkwardness (on Angel's side) had vanished a while before. Arthur had been strolling along the busy metropolitan area, Angel at his side, her silver-bell chime of laughter echoing through his head and his heart. Suddenly, she took off, out of her grasp, and whirled around, eyes glinting madly. Arthur was reminded of how Guinevere used to do this in the market place, trying to force him to catch her. It was something her mother used to do to her father, and she kept the romantic gesture in the deepest crevice of her heart to forever hold. He followed along with the game, even if he was King and she was Queen, because nothing meant more to him than to make her happy.

Angel took off down the street, giggling as Arthur followed at her heels. At long last, he engulfed her and twirled her around in the middle of the sidewalk, passersby chuckling at the young couple's antics. Angel held herself with an air of self-confidence, as if she didn't care who saw her in the compromising predicament. Arthur swung her effortlessly over his shoulder, hoisting her into a position, and headed for a bench next to a bus-stop where the two could seat themselves with what they thought was privacy.

"Bradley!" she screeched in her trilling, soprano voice, flipping her head around as best she could, her dark ringlets falling into her eyes, dark lashs framing the almond-shaped orbs. "Put me down! People are staring!" The plea was drowned out by his baritone laughter.

"I thought you liked to play games," he teased, leaning back on the bench as she scampered off his shoulder and perched herself in his lap.

"You are horrible! You know I hate it when you do that," she joked, rolling her eyes in amusement.

Arthur cast an incredulous stare. "You love it when I chase you!"

She smiled. "I like it when you can't catch me. Remind me again why I put up with you."

The words rolled off his tongue before he could stop them. "Because you love me."

Both froze, and Arthur sighed to himself. He had been waiting for a while to admit that, constantly biting back his feelings since he couldn't bear to scare her away. Arthur knew quite a few things about love. He knew that somewhere in every life, there was someone from the past that one could never forget, a piece of their history which defined them and made them who they were. He knew that somewhere in every heart, there was always a way to come back to the present, an action that took over and led one home. He knew that somewhere in every word, there was a meaning that brought one to the future, a phrase which allowed them to believe in whatever they wished for. He knew that all this was true, but it also left him with many unknowns, many questions.

For example, how long would one search for that person? How long would they keep that heart? How long would they hear that word?

Or better yet, how long would one wait?

When you love someone, Arthur thought, you might as well wait forever until the questioned are answered because, in every person, heart, and word, love existed. Love was unexplainable, unpredictable, untamable, and untouchable. It had no beginning nor did it have an end. It was only living, thriving off of the person, world, and heart one harnessed. It forced them to wait for the answer.

If it was someone that you truly loved, how long would you wait?

Arthur knew that it was now or never, because, he loved her too much to wait. He had to know. He needed Guinevere. He pulled Angel down to eye level so that he could press his forehead against her own. "You know you do, Angel, don't deny it."

Angel pressed her lips together and situated herself in a proper position. She inhaled deeply before nodding her head. "Do you know what happened when I first saw you?" When Arthur made no response, she lowered gaze so that her brown eyes met his oceanic ones, sparkling with adoration. "When I first saw you, I was afraid to meet you. When I first met you, I was afraid to kiss you. When I first kissed you, I was afraid to love you. But now that I love you… I'm afraid to lose you."

Arthur captured her lips with his as the two cocooned in one another's embrace. "I promise, you will never, ever lose me."

At those words, something seemed to click for the both of them. In the next instant, Angel froze above him and the two broke away in a heartbeat. Arthur could feel it deep within himself, the change, molding and jarring of his damp, cold bones. It was like a moth to a flame as his hands grasped her wrists, holding her steady as she swayed in his lap. Yes, he was in love with her, and she was in love with him – that wasn't the life-altering revelation. What she meant to him was stronger than just lovers – Angel was his other half, his soul mate, his heart. She had sensed it too – for the first time in a millennium. It bewildered him that there was just not a word for love to fit them accurately, describing their bond that had survived a thousand years. There was no framework etched in a simple or intricate pattern for them to follow.

More than anything in the world, Arthur wanted her to remember, and in that moment, he knew she had. Now, he wanted to have her laugh again, wanted to spend every waking moment with her, wanted to love her more than ever before, wanted to make up for leaving her for Avalon, wanted to make up for the broken promises and hopeless dreams, wanted to keep her in his arms. He knew he would be strong and happier with her in his life as they both moved on from the way things ended back in Camelot. His heart felt what it wanted, and whatever he tried to do, his heart was finally complete.

He had found his Queen.

Angel raised her gaze to meet his own, eyes glazed over with so many emotions it was a wonder she could even see. A sheen of tears peered at him as she opened her mouth and spoke the first words as Guinevere of Camelot, the Once and Future Queen. "Arthur…" She was overcome with sobs, and she ducked her head from view, burying his face into his shoulder. "You… I love you. I've _missed_ you."

He swallowed a lump in his throat. "I won't leave this time, I promise."

"You _left_ me!" she said, her cries catching the attention of some walkers. Arthur hushed her and pulled her close, but she continued her rant. "You died! And Merlin… Oh, _Merlin_! Everyone I loved _died_!"

"I'm so sorry."

Arthur kept up the constant reassurances, telling her that he was here. She was his. Eventually, Gwen's tears seized, and she resigned herself to merely sit there, absorbing Arthur's presence. The two headed back to her flat downtown and spent the rest of the weekend there, immersing themselves in what they thought they had lost long before. Their relationship continued, and it grew stronger with each passing day. Never once did the two stray away from one another, they stayed close and offered everything they could. Arthur gave his strength, and Gwen gave her heart. Months passed, and the memories intermingled with their current lives, shaping them to the best of their ability.

The two were together all of the fall term, and in early December, Arthur proposed. To everyone else, it was quick and they assumed it wouldn't last, but anyone who saw the look in Arthur's eyes when he gazed upon Gwen, knew that it would continue forever. Honestly, having Guinevere in his life again occupied his thoughts, keeping Merlin away until his life was sorted out, but in the end, he still needed to find his old friend to be complete.

At the end of first term, Arthur took Gwen home to meet his father. He was hesitant because he remembered Uther's reaction to their relationship back in Camelot. However, when Arthur walked her through those maple doors at the mansion, Uther stepped forward and embraced his son's fiancée, supportive of the entire ordeal. Later on, while Gwen slumbered on in the guest bedroom, Arthur approached his father with his insecurities and sought his approval to the engagement. Uther answered honestly, that he would stand by his son with this decision because it was "clear how much Arthur loved the girl." Arthur was taken back, but he accepted the answer, taking it in full stride.

He would never know that Uther just didn't want to make the same mistake twice.

Life couldn't be better, Arthur thought. The only thing missing was Merlin himself and his knights. With that said, the nineteen-year-old knew he could have perfection with this second chance. However, all good things must come to an end, unfortunately.

Over the Christmas holiday, Arthur managed to pull away from his father and visit Katie in New York City where she was staying with a few friends. Some thought of sneaking out and taking a tour of the city, seeing if Merlin was wandering about, struck him since it was the first break he had received in months, but he was halted in his plans due to the conniving sister of his who just broke the most horrid news Arthur could have been given.

She remembered. All these months. Longer than he had.

At first, he was hurt and betrayed. Arthur's life had been perfect and effortless for most of the time he had been in New York. He took the time to confess everything to her, though, exclaiming how much pain she caused him when he was the King and she was the Lady. He took the moment to cut her down, watch her break, then slowly pick up the pieces. He offered her forgiveness, and she accepted without hesitation. At least now, Arthur mused, he had a confident other than Gwen. The two bonded quickly, though, Gwen would take a while to fully forgive Morgana. Things were looking up once more, until Morgana dropped another bombshell.

She had been having visions of Merlin, and she was almost certain she had seen him in the streets of New York some days before. Suddenly, Arthur knew he couldn't go back to Harvard. He was closer than ever before to finding his old life, and it was too much of a hassle to wake up everyday and pretend to be who he wasn't. When he left New York for home, he knew he would be coming back. He needed to find Merlin, his father be damned. Merlin was his rock, his guide, his friend, and his ally, and above all, Arthur knew he was his brother – his other half. When he arrived back in Maryland, he dropped out of Harvard and transferred to the University of Columbia, beginning his second term there, sharing an apartment with Morgana and Gwen.

He never breathed a word to Uther until the final forms had been signed and he was already enrolled.

To say his father was angry was an understatement. The older man boarded the first plane to New York City that day, storming into the apartment with wild eyes, curiosity flashing across his face. Guinevere was out and about, exploring the city while Morgana and Arthur lounged around the living room, formulating a plan in order to begin the hunt for Merlin. When Morgana answered the door to find their fuming father, she immediately plastered a smile on her face, welcoming in, but he paused, turning to face her with an eerie stare.

"Bradley, may I have a word with you?" he asked sternly, his voice portraying no emotion. He cast a long look in Morgana's direction, adding, " _Alone_."

A sense of familiarity overcame Arthur as he watched his sister disappear into her bedroom, sending him a sympathetic smile. He sighed deeply, knowing that this was going to end in flames. When she was gone from view, he faced Uther. "You should have called, told me you were coming."

"Have I taught you nothing?" Uther said, his words whipping across the room. "What made you think that you could pull a stunt like this?"

"There is nothing wrong with doing what I want," Arthur defended, crossing his arms in defiance. He wouldn't back down from this confrontation. He wished to stay close to his father – but on his own terms this time. "You said I knew what was best for me when-"

"There are times when you play childish games that convince me otherwise," he responded, striding forward until he was towering over his son. The man was seething through gritted teeth as he advanced. "We had a _plan_ , Bradley! You would go to school, get your law degree-"

"-And take over the firm, I realize that," Arthur said, stepping towards his father, leveling his gaze to meet the blazing, grey eyes.

"We had this same talk before you left for school," Uther continued, "I thought you understand what I wanted-"

"But it's not always up to you. It's my life, and I decide how I get to live it."

"Have you no conscious?" Uther bellowed. "Think of what people will say. Respect must be earned, Bradley, and for you to run off to New York just to become a writer certainly does not help you in the scale of things!"

"I'm sorry for any humiliation I may have caused you, but you've…" Arthur swallowed a lump in his throat, the memories of a troll and his father, the legend long forgotten, living strong in his mind. "You've always taught me to be true to my heart, and that's all I've ever tried to do, to be the man you'd want me to be, someone to be proud of."

If the situation was familiar to Uther then he didn't show it. "This is not the way to go about doing it."

"Then you'd better back off because I'm not leaving. I'm not going back. You don't get to dictate my every move!" He tried to leave the room and his father behind, storming to meet Morgana in her bedroom.

Uther reached out and grasped his son's shirt in his fist. "I am your father! You don't get to speak with me like that!"

" _You're not the King anymore_!" Arthur roared, turning on his heel, eyes flashing wildly.

The effect was instantaneous as both froze in their motions, actions and worlds sinking into a void of nothingness, of black oblivion. Reality had become slippery, avoiding any true cement that once joined their concrete relationship. They were like robots, programmed to go through life's movements without any thought. Both stood there: one coming to grips with the memories, the other wishing they'd disappear.

"King..." his father's voice trailed off as he sought the wall for support, his knees threatening to crumble beneath him. He gazed up at Arthur who had resigned himself to sit in the chair, head in his hands. "You remember?"

All Arthur could do was nod. They had a lot to talk about.


	4. The Mark of Morgana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, remember. Bradley is Arthur. Tony is Uther. Andy is Elyan. Tom is simply Tom. Katie is Morgana, and Angel is Guinevere.

**Chapter Three**   
_"There's no use in waiting,_  
No more hesitating, watch me go.  
Truth is I'm gonna dare."  
 _\- "Dare" by Megan and Liz_

* * *

Katie didn't know how a person could get used to screaming.

As she sat there, eyes drawn to the site ahead, the sound pierced the air, ringing continuously in her ears, echoing through the cramped vehicle. The sharp intake of breath was as ragged as the first, and before she knew it, the screaming started up again. Each intense shriek struck Katie to the core, and she struggled to remain calm in the situation. She didn't know how long she could keep her collected concentration drawn to the specific scene. It was a natural human instinct to be bothered by pain – hers or another's.

After everything she had been through, though, she didn't know why. Katie supposed it was because she was programmed a certain way, told to react to specific emotions with an explicit response, regardless of past influences. In happiness, she was overzealous. In sadness, she never spoke. In hatred, she held the grunge the longest. In love, she would give it her all. In drama, under pressure, she tried not to panic. It's not like she was scared, because she _wasn't_. The questions and worries were just constantly whirring through her mind, never seizing and only growing.

_This_ – it was _supposed_ to be a beautiful thing. They always said that the process was the most promising experience in one's lifetime if one was ever able to witness such a miracle. They never told it from the acquaintance's perspective, however. For them, it was terrible and heart-wrenching and horrifying all at once. Especially when in the back of a taxi cab. Nonetheless, when Katie saw her double over in pain, fighting for even the right to breathe, she knew that she was to watch the ordeal play out and not try to counter this vision.

Unabashed reactions were the most raw when it came to life, and that's how Katie had always known to live. Having the gift of magic was truly sought after when it came to certain happenings, and for once in her life, she was not ashamed to be different. People would claim that she was a freak, but it had no lasting effect. They themselves did not know what it truly was to be different, and it was why she was able to sit here, even if the situation shook her heart, rendering her emotionally stoic. It was just the _screams_.

They took on the most real tone Katie had ever heard.

Katie had always accepted her Seer power since she regained her lost memories as the Lady Morgana, but tonight, for the first time, she dreamed of someone she had no knowledge of. It was the first time she ever saw something peculiar and unfamiliar in this life, the first time she questioned the magic. There was a woman sprawled out in the back of a taxi cab with a middle-aged man between her legs. Katie could see her eyes, wide and sapphire-blue, frantically looking around the vehicle, spotting the man's blood-stained hands. Katie could almost feel the panic swelling within the woman, her lungs expanding to make room for oxygen, but she wasn't able to draw in any air. The man was shouting incoherent statements, and the smell of blood marred the blistery scent of winter. The woman's sweat-tangled hair was pulled back as she struggled for her right to breathe.

_The baby was coming…_

It wasn't until a new cry cut through her subconscious, a baby's wail, that she opened her eyes. Awakening in her bedroom, drenched in a thin film of cold sweat, striving to regain her bearings, managed to startle the reincarnated Lady Morgana. She was not one to be easily puzzled, so to be plagued by the strange dreams was an oddity in itself. The images themselves danced at the forefront of her deranged mind, and she inhaled sharply before closing her eyes. These days, the world seemed to go on in a fast forward, and for once, she welcomed the short, sweet, silent minutes. Breathing heavily, Morgana rolled onto her back, reclining against the pillows and situating herself in a snug position. Her attempts to drift off proved to be unsuccessful, and she knew she was too wired to sleep.

The house was silent, cocooned in a dense fog of stillness, and she forced herself to find peace in it all. She hadn't slept last night, nor any day the week before, not since Uther left. Grasping for a handful of hours a night, vision-free, was her overall objective, one that had become a near impossible goal to fulfill. Dark shadows surrounded her forest-green eyes daily; her head pounded, overruling the effects of the sleeping pills her doctor had prescribed to her. In the privacy of her own home, she knew she looked as exhausted as she felt, but in the presence of her brother and his fiancée, it really didn't matter since they knew the reason.

After a few more quiet moments, she sat up, pushing off of the bed. Every action seemed to be a strenuous movement, and she fought the urge to collapse in defeat. When had life decided to become a losing battle, tempting her every waking second? Morgana's feet touched the plush carpeted floor, and she swayed slightly under gravity's pull. Nothing seemed to steady her, she realized, none of Earth's forces could save her now. She reached out for the wall, attempting to position herself upright. As soon as she fully righted herself, Morgana was sprinting towards her brother's room down the hall of their shared apartment. She threw open the wooden door, and only then did she pause. His slumbering form was visible, and small smile graced his face. Morgana hesitated, taking a step into the room, watching as his chest rose at a content pace.

The night she had admitted her memories came back to her, the memory still fresh. Fresh in time and fresh in emotion. She remembered the look of pure agony in his eyes, as if his world was slowly crumbling. She had expected him to scream at her, which he did. She did not expect for an offer of forgiveness, of redemption. She wanted to hold onto the family she had in this life. It was perfect. Her father was here. Her brother was here. She didn't want anything to change.

However, after Uther's visit, it had. Everything had.

Morgana placed a hand against the door frame, raising her other hand to the wall. She allowed her fingers to trace the scratches in the wood, closing her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to talk to him, tell him of her strange vision, contemplate who it was - what did have to do with her? What did it have to do with Merlin? Because, after all, he's the one she thought about when she went to sleep at night. She needed him. Arthur needed him. She was trying to focus all her magic into the visions, hoping they'd direct her, but they didn't...

Morgana _needed_ to talk to Arthur, to wake him and pull him from his slumber, but they both had classes at Columbia in the morning, and she didn't want to disrupt his sleep when hers was already gone. Instead, she choose to amble to the window, resting her head against the glass. Snow fell outside, flakes clinging to the transparent surface. She needed a distraction from the visions, and it seemed as if nothing – not even the weather – could pull her from her musings.

"Morgana?" a groggy voice murmured lowly from the darkness behind her. The noise was certainly unexpected, and she fought against the instinct to scream as she whirled around, eyes darting about her surroundings. "What are you doing?"

_Just Arthur_ , she reassured herself. "By gods, you scared the hell out of me," Morgana gasped. "Don't you know not to sneak up on people?"

"Yes," he answered, sitting up lightly. "I received many vases thrown at my head back in Camelot. I'm just lucky we forbid vases in this vicinity."

"Sorry," she apologized. "You should know by now not to sneak up on me."

He pushed the sheets back, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, his eyes wide with an incredulous stare. "You think I wasn't scared to see a random person standing in my room when I woke up? You scared the hell out of _me_ ; you're lucky I didn't attack you!"

Morgana sighed to herself, shaking her head at the statement. She shouldn't have come here. Uther had left the apartment after a few hours, and even though days had passed, her brother was still dwelling on the visit. Something had changed between the three of them, and that night, she could have sworn that he cried himself to sleep with Gwen at his side. The knowledge of their returning memories had forced Uther into a shell of his former self, and Morgana vaguely wondered if it resembled what was left of him after her betrayal when she first tried to take over Camelot and came forth as his biological daughter, successfully dethroning the man who sought to destroy her kind.

In this life, things had been different. Uther was the same doting guardian he had been when he was a King, but now, he embraced the title of "father" and never let her forget that fact. Before she had regained her memories, he had been the person she ran too when she had nightmares of the crash which killed her parents. Back when she was Katie, he had been her rock, the constant supporter in whatever she did. Yes, the fact that he was her real father had almost pulled her into the same anger and corruption that led to Morgause's corrupt a thousand years before, but she managed to pull through this time around since she had a steady family beside her. Uther had not shown any hostility towards her after all these years, even though he had his memories since the very moment Arthur was born.

Things were different. Things had been better. Ever since the revelation that they all remembered, things had changed, and for Uther, it hadn't been for the better. It was just a reminder of his past failings. However, Morgana was taking it upon herself to turn things around. More than anything in life, she wanted to be accepted. Arthur had accepted her change; Gwen was coming around; and Uther - _her father_ \- he would too.

"I'm sorry," Morgana whispered again, her voice soft. "I had another vision…"

Arthur paused, pondering the thought with intrigue. "Was it… Did you see Merlin again?" He wandered over to her with the utmost curiosity. "Do you know where he is?"

"Just _calm down_ ," she stressed, wringing her hands in front of her. "I don't know _what_ it was or _who_ it was. That's the problem. It was just… She was _screaming_ … And there was a baby…"

" _Morgana,_ what did you see?" he pressed on, seizing her useless ramblings, pulling her from her bewildered state.

" _I don't know_ ," his sister replied, pounding her fists against his chest. "You don't understand! I was in a cab, and there was a woman-"

"Someone else?"

"No, I didn't recognize her. It was too dark." Morgana shrugged away from her brother's hold, shaking her head as she paced back and forth, arms crossed as if to protect herself, keeping a hold on reality as she dwelled back into the vision. "She was in labor, and the baby was born… The woman was screaming _so loud_ , and I didn't understand. There was another man there, but I didn't know him either."

"Is there anything else?" Arthur asked, placing a hand on her trembling shoulder. "Anything at all?"

Morgana tilted her head to the side as she looked at the ex-Prince. "It was dark…" She lowered her gaze to her hands. "That's what I'm trying to tell you, Arthur. I didn't know _anyone_ in the vision; that's never happened before."

Arthur shook his head, unable to comprehend the situation. "So you had a vision of some random people? What does that have to do _anything_ we're going through?" He paused for a moment before continuing. "Are you sure it wasn't a dream?"

"Considering I have an higher IQ, I'm pretty sure I can tell the difference between a dream and a vision, Arthur Pendragon," Morgana replied vehemently. When her brother made no move to respond, the younger girl sat down on his bed, pulling a fluffy pillow to her chest, hugging it to steady her raging thoughts. "It was a vision; I know it was, but I don't know what it was _about_."

Arthur sighed, reclining in the window seat across from her, staring out at the city streets where a light snow was falling. "I'm sorry…."

"We all want to find Merlin," she reminded him, "But you can't just jump on me for every vision I have. I told you – I don't know who these people were."

"Then we'll find out, Morgana," he said, staring at her under a heavy glare. "These visions you've been having, they all lead to something. They always do, right?" She couldn't deny him, especially when his hopeful eyes were brighter than she had seen them in days. "They'll somehow lead us to Merlin, right?"

"Of course," she answered, tilting her head to the side, observing the older man's motions.

He leaned his head back, the muted thud echoing through the room as it met the wall. Arthur showed no sign of pain, and Morgana knew he was just trying to relieve the pressure and stress he was facing. With each passing day, especially since their father visited, it seemed as if her brother was slowly unraveling at the seams, and she found herself fumbling around to retie the frayed strings. She knew that Arthur needed Merlin now more than ever, and she took it upon herself to find him.

Never before has she attempted to call her magic into her visions, to summon one to the forefront of her mind. She was seeking an answer to her questions; she needed some clue as to where Merlin was at this very moment in time. She had seen him weeks before in a vision, in the alleyway, his blue eyes haunting her for days on end. And for one fleeting moment, she swore she saw him in reality over winter break, fleeing from something, tears racing down his cheeks. And in that moment, she swore her life was complete.

Now, she just needed to find him again.

"So where do we start?" a voice asked from the doorway, pulling both Arthur and Morgana from their reverie.

Gwen stood tall and confident, arms crossed over her chest, eyes sparkling. In this new life, she held herself with a certain grace she had lacked back in Camelot. Arthur once confided in his sister that he thought that perhaps because she was born an equal in this life and there was nothing standing in the way of being in a relationship with him prompted the change. Morgana could see how he reached that conclusion. Back in Camelot, Gwen had been born a servant, reserved and timid in whatever she approached. However, when she entered a relationship with Arthur, she embraced everything with a certain amount of compassion and determination that made her a truly wonderful Queen after her husband's untimely death. Gwen was a great Queen, Morgana realized, and she wished with all her might that she could rewind time and take those years back and be content as a Lady, united under the Pendragon crest, and flourish under the rule of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere. If only she hadn't been tainted with fear, easily corrupted by her half-sister.

If only she had broken out of the spell sooner.

"I don't know," Morgana admitted, facing her brother's fiancee. Gwen and her were quickly warming up to one another's presences, but it would take some time till they were close friends, because, after everything Morgana did, there would take some time to heal the wounds, stitch the cuts, and soothe the flustered scars. "I... Hope I get some visions of him, I suppose."

"Maybe you did," Gwen said, "What was your latest vision?"

"I don't know."

Gwen shook her head in defiance. "No, that's not right. There is always something in your visions; there has never been a random event you foresaw. This was something important or you wouldn't have seen it, Morgana."

Arthur straightened his posture as his fiancee joined him on the window seat after shutting the door behind her. "Perhaps there's something you're missing."

"I don't know what it could be."

"Well what happened in the vision? Don't concentrate on _who_ it was but rather _what_ it was."

Morgana sighed, leaning back until she was sprawled across the top of Arthur's bed. "I was in a taxi cab. It was snowing, and the traffic went on for _miles._ There was a pregnant woman sprawled across the back seat. She had brown hair and bright blue eyes. She was screaming so loud. That's what unnerved me. I don't think I ever heard someone scream that loud before. It all seemed so real, especially for a vision." The teenager licked her dry lips before swallowing thickly. "She... She was in labor, and I knew that baby was coming right then and there. There was another man between her legs. He was telling her things like 'calm down' and 'it's almost over'. I don't know if that was her husband or whoever. The taxi driver was behind him, and he was... He looked like he was more worried about the mess he'd have to clean up."

"Did you recognize anything about the woman?" Gwen questioned, cocking her head to the side with curiosity. "Or the man for that matter?"

Morgana shook her head, lazily fingering the hem of her night shirt. "Not that I can remember. The man... It was dark, but he... I'm pretty sure he had dark skin, dark hair... Like you, Gwen. He was delivering the baby, and he seemed to know what he was doing... Wait, he said..." Her voice trailed off, and it prompted the couple across the room to narrow their eyes in suspicion, waiting with baited breath for their friend to continue. "He told the woman he had done this before..."

Gwen bit her lip. "What were his exact words."

"His daughter had been born in the back of a cab as well," Morgana admitted, glancing at the dark-haired girl. "...Why?"

"Morgana... I was born in the back of a cab." There was a moment of silence before Gwen continued with a bout of enthusiasm. "You don't think... No, you don't see the _past_ do you?"

"Unless you count my memories of Camelot, then no, I don't."

Gwen stood up, Arthur's arms dropping to the side as the trio felt excitement bubble in their chests. What revelation had Morgana made. "My father delivered a baby about a year after I was born... He doesn't talk about it much... It was just such an unusual experience that he told us the story when we were older."

"Us?" Arthur asked.

"My brother and I."

"Elyan?"

"Andy," Gwen clarified, "In this life, it's Andy, but I haven't heard from him since we moved to the West Coast last year. I doubt he remembers anything about Camelot, though, or else he would have called."

"...But why would I have a vision about your father? How is he involved?" Morgana questioned, staring at her brother's fiancee in confusion.

"Maybe it's not my father, but the woman," Gwen quipped.

"Did you catch a name, Morgana?" Arthur said, joining his sister on the bed.

The younger girl scrunched her facial features together in concentration, and after a few moments, Arthur wondered if thinking was physically straining on her. Before he could call her out on it, though, she lit up like a light bulb, face eager but still puzzled. "Caroline," she murmured, turning to face Gwen. "Does that name mean anything to you?"Gwen shook her head, biting her bottom lip.

Morgana smirked, and Arthur recognized the look. It was usually followed by cruel manipulation. "I... What is that smile for, Morgana?"

"You haven't told Gwen's parents about the engagement, have you?" Arthur shook his fractionally, eyes widening to the size of grapefruit as he realized where his sister was heading.

"No, Morgana!"

"Why not? It's the perfect excuse to go out and talk to Gwen's father."

Gwen's face crumbled as she recognized the formulating plan. "Morgana, they... My parents won't... Honestly, they just found out I was dating someone... They haven't even met Arthur for god's sake."

"What's more important?" Morgana asked evilly, her voice sending icy shivers down the couple's spine. "Finding the woman or-"

"Alright, we'll do it," she said.

Morgana turned to face Arthur, a wicked grin tugging at her lips. "Time to meet the _in-laws_ , Mr. Pendragon."


	5. The Poisoned Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, remember. Bradley is Arthur. Tony is Uther. Andy is Elyan. Tom is simply Tom (Gwen's father). Katie is Morgana, and Angel is Guinevere. Colin is Merlin. And Richard is Gaius. OH! And Margaret is Gwen/Elyan's mother who died in Camelot!

**Chapter Four**

_"I'll always be honest,_

_I'll always be proud._

_A long way from heaven,_

_Then I turn around."_

_-"Star I R" by Caroline Sunshine_

* * *

Angel _hated_ her home.

Perhaps it was because her parents insisted on moving to the Northeast three years after she was born, settling in a small-town called Huntington, located in the blistery corner of upper New York. It was a place where the weather was always cloudy, and she had been severely deprived of sunshine as a child. She loved her family whole heartedly, and she was especially close to her father, Tom. The two had been inseparable up until she decided to venture out onto her own, something drawing her towards Maryland where she later met her fiancé, taking up a job on the corner coffee shop.

Not a day passed by she didn't miss her family, and when she finally remembered Camelot, she felt the home sickness grip her like a crushing fist as she was reminded the last time she saw her father, right before Uther had him executed. It made her want to rush home then and there and embrace him one last time, savoring the moment when she was Guinevere and he was the blacksmith of the kingdom.

However, her destiny had other ideas.

As ashamed as she was to admit it, Gwen knew that there were more important things than returning to her family such as finding her lost friends and continuing her life with her one true love. She never expected the two worlds to collide. She wanted to keep her life in Camelot separate from her life in Huntington, however, she found herself in the passenger seat of Arthur's car, rushing home and hopefully be one step closer to finding her long, lost friends. Gwen didn't want to admit it, but she was terrified. Not of finding the truth, no, but of how her Huntington life would react to her Camelot one.

The snow flakes melted as soon as they came in contact with the warm surface of the transparent glass, quickly forming drops of water, and Gwen's chocolate eyes watched them race down its surface. Streaks of water were left behind, and she found herself leaning forward until her forehead was pressed up against the icy window. The car crossed over a small crook, and she sighed to herself, the sound inaudible to most, as she cast a glance at her fiancé in the driver's seat.

Arthur stared at the road straight ahead, noting the icy and slick pavement that they were currently maneuvering across. Running a hand through her hair, Gwen observed the way his lips were set in a firm line, showing his discomfort and annoyance for the predicament they had been thrown into. She couldn't blame him. Uther had been completely welcoming to their relationship, and that was saying something. Apparently, Arthur thought that he would be the greater of the two evils, but he was sadly mistaken. Gwen had an inkling of how her parents would react. Arthur would be going into this situation blindfolded.

Switching her attention back to the scenery passing by, Gwen allowed her eyes to flash aimlessly amongst it. She was not taking any valuable pieces of information in nor was she memorizing the lay of the land since she already knew it. She zoned out, becoming quickly engrossed in the snow flakes. The scene was nothing short of interesting to say the least. She was hypnotized by the paths they traveled, the patterns they paved, and the cleansing they accomplished. At that moment, she had a strange urge to throw herself out of the moving car and go dance in the snow.

"What do you think we'll find out?" Arthur inquired, gaining her attention as she he turned off onto the shoulder of the road. Gwen lifted her head to meet his gaze, raising her eyebrows in confusion. "What do you think your father will tell us?"

Gwen shrugged absently, wondering why it was relevant to concentrate on this piece of information. She felt Arthur's eyes burrowing into the back of her head, so she turned back to face him. Arthur gave her a wary looking, but she let it pass. She could be a damper on things, but she had a right to be. Her parents just learned she was seeing someone named Bradley. Knowing she was already engaged to a boy they had never met…

The idea was terrifying, and Arthur wasn't showing the proper fear for it.

"I don't know," Gwen said, studying her nail beds.

Arthur rolled his eyes at her antics before flipping the radio on, hoping the noise would fill the void of silence that had settled upon the two occupants of the car. Static was heard as he attempted to drive and find a signal at the exact same time. Finally, he settled on a station that played rock music, and Gwen sighed to herself. Resisting the urge to gag, she reached across the console and shut the music off.

"Something's bothering you," Arthur said, annunciating each word to get the point of concern across. Gwen glanced back at her fiancé, a small smile gracing her delicate features. "…Want to talk about it?"

"What gave it away?" Arthur chuckled lowly at her aloof manner and sarcastic tongue.

"I'm sorry," he apologized with a hint of remorse. "I just didn't think your parents would be that bad to meet."

"Oh, they will."

"I don't think so," Arthur protested.

"And why is that?"

Arthur smiled. "Because they made you."

Arthur returned his attention to the road, bypassing the black ice scattered in random spots across the cement. Gwen's smile brightened and she once more turned to watch the snow flakes with a flying heart. She didn't know what she did to ever deserve someone like Arthur Pendragon. Of all his many flaws, there was such a pure heart and utmost honesty that shined through, and that, above anything else, made her fall in love with him every single time all over again.

The two continued the drive, eventually succumbing to random road games to pass the time. It was early afternoon when Arthur pulled the car around a sharp corner, causing Gwen to groan softly as it pulled her from her daze. She let her eyes adjust to her surroundings as the car ventured forward, and a gasp of excitement broke through her reverie. She was almost home! The sun peaked through the cloudy overcast, its rays causing light to bounce off the sparkling glints of snow. The car rumbled over an old bridge, drove for a short while, and turned so that they were cruising along the edge of a dense forest. The side roads had started out as nothing but dirt and gravel but soon paved out in the long stretch of things. Tall trees lined both sides of the street, bending gracefully over the road. At the end of the double rows of trees, Gwen saw sections of slopping gray roof tiles and a brick chimney. All of the homes in Huntington had the same design, so she looked for the familiar house with the ivory door and a wreath with a big, red blow hung on the front.

"We're coming around the back right now," Gwen declared. "The driveway goes around to the front. You can see the front yard now."

"It's…" Arthur paused, searching for the correct words.

"Small?" Gwen supplied.

"No," Arthur commented, "…It's _you_."

He turned the car into the driveway, and Gwen caught sight of two figures perched on the top of the cemented stairs that led to the porch and entryway. When the vehicle was parked, Arthur awaited Gwen's departure, but when she hesitated to move, he nudged her side playfully. "It'll be alright, Guinevere."

"You have to call me Angel here, Arthur," Gwen reminded him, face tight with anxiety. "And you're Bradley."

He cast a supportive smile before stepping out of the car. Gwen followed suit, climbing out of the car slowly, staring up at her old home. Two stories of paned windows, brick with a shingled roof, and a large porch. The padding of footsteps broke through her concentration, and she came face-to-face with her parents, Tom and Margaret Leodegrance. Margaret smiled widely before wrapping her arms around her daughter, and Gwen let a small grin grace her face as her father stepped forward and pulled her into a tight and secure bear hug.

"Welcome home, Angel," Tom whispered under his breath. "Welcome home."

After she pulled away, Gwen extended her arm towards Arthur who stepped forward with a greeting. "This is Bradley, Bradley James." Arthur expected her to let the news of their engagement follow, but when she continued with, "My boyfriend," he had no time to react as Margaret smothered him with a hug.

"It's so nice to finally meet you, Bradley," she said. "I've heard so much about you."

Margaret ushered Arthur inside the house, and Gwen and her father followed a quiet distance, watching the older woman overpower the younger man with questions that could rival the Spanish Inquisition. Arthur took it all in stride, conversing eagerly with Margaret, and Gwen couldn't help but chuckle under her breath. All her fears and insecurities seemed to blow away in the wind, cleansing her off all her worries as she stepped over the threshold and entered her childhood home.

"You must be Mrs. Leodegrance," Arthur said, sending the woman the same smile that made Gwen weak in her knees.

"Please, call me Margaret," the older woman insisted, "And this is Tom, Angel's father."

"Pleasure to meet you both," Arthur responded, shaking Tom's hand as they exchanged pleasantries. "Thank you for having me over for the weekend. Angel's told me so much about you. You have a wonderful daughter."

Gwen laughed half heartedly, swatting her fiancé on the arm. "He's exaggerating."

"We hear an earful as well," Tom chimed in, and Arthur raised an eyebrow in mock curiosity. "All good things, I promise."

Arthur laughed and flashed Gwen a wide smile. She could feel the blush roll across her cheeks, and she struggled to remain standing as Arthur pulled her hand into his own, squeezing tightly to remind her to stay grounded. It had only been five minutes and the meeting was going perfectly. Gwen wondered offhandedly if her parents had gone through trial runs before they came – that, or memorized cue cards. Considering this was the first boy she had ever brought home, it was certainly a change for them.

"Bradley, your room is the second door on the left. Angel, could you take his things there?" Margaret announced in an authoritive tone, gesturing down the hallway where the four bedrooms and bathroom were located. "Tom, could you get some drinks? What would you like, Bradley?"

"Anything's fine," he answered as Gwen whisked the duffel bag to the spare bedroom. "Actually, Angel and I have something-"

"When's dinner?" Gwen broke out, attempting to prolong the inevitable by just a few hours. She wanted a few moments of peace with her parents before they kicked her to the seventh circle of Hell for her crimes.

"In a few hours, Angel," her mother responded. "It's only two o'clock. We'll eat about six. Why don't you join Bradley in the living room?" Margaret turned towards the younger man. "Make yourself comfortable, dear."

"Here," Tom said as he entered the sitting room, offering Arthur a bottle of water.

The teenager accepted it with a nod of thanks and seated himself in the comfy sofa, the black leather squelching as he tried to find a comfortable position. Margaret began to fire off questions at a spit-fire pace that reminded Arthur vaguely of training in combat with four knights at a time. Attacks rapid and the defenses even more so.

"So, Bradley, thank you for coming for a visit. It's nice to finally have Angel bring a boy home."

" _Mother_!"

Tom shook his head, laughing at his daughter's antics, before turning to face the blonde. "So, Bradley, how's New York taking to you?"

Arthur took a lazy sip of his drink as if to soothe Gwen's panicked state. "Good, we're all settled in our apartment, and I start classes next week at Columbia."

Margaret leaned forward, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Now, are you two living _alone_ together or-"

"No, we're sharing the apartment with Bradley's sister, Katie," Gwen quickly assured her mother as Arthur nudged his hand into hers once more. "It's just so that's easier to afford."

"How many siblings do you have?" Tom interjected suddenly.

"Katie is my half-sister," Arthur confessed, the heat creeping up towards his cheek. Having never met Gwen's parents in Camelot, it was a strange predicament to be thrown into and it left him feeling self-conscious. "My mother died when I was born, so it's been my father and I for most of my life."

Tom reclined in his seat, apparently satisfied with the answer, but Margaret plowed on. "What's Katie like?"

"She's extreme," Gwen admitted with a laugh. She was warming up to her old friend, and she knew forgiveness was one step beyond the horizon. "When she's happy, she never stops smiling. When she's sad, she cries a river."

Arthur nodded. "And when she's angry, she'll burn your house down."

The conversation began with common items of interest: plans for the future, the city life Gwen had been thrown into, Margaret's plans for her garden, and of course, sports teams. Gwen danced around the subject of Arthur's and hers relationship, choosing to allow her parents to get to know Arthur's true self before they deduced the relationship a failure the moment the news of the engagement hit. For the most part, things went smoothly, but Arthur could sense her unease at the current situation, so he did his best to worm his way into Margaret and Tom's good graces.

"This is a lovely home you have," Arthur announced during dinner, taking a sip of his iced tea as the family sat around the dining room table.

Tom smiled. "I'm sure it's nothing compared to what you're used too."

Arthur didn't know how to respond to that statement, so Gwen stepped in. "Dad, how's the business going?"

Margaret leaned closer to Arthur. "Tom's a mechanic right here in town. He owns his own-"

"I'm sure Bradley doesn't want to hear about my day job," Tom began, but Margaret shook her head.

"No, you two just keep talking." She stood up, wiping her face with a napkin. "Should I get desert started? Angel, how about you come help me?" Without waiting for a reply, she gestured for Gwen to follow her into the kitchen,

Gwen didn't want to leave Arthur alone with her father (who knew what could be said), but she stood up as well and collected his plate. In the kitchen, she joined her mother, scraping the remains of the food into the garbage. She strained her ears to listen to Tom and Arthur's conversation.

"My father wanted me to be a lawyer, so I first went to Harvard-"

"That's a pretty big school," Tom said, tone lacing between awe and suppressed disbelief.

"Of course, but I didn't want to be a lawyer. Over winter break, my sister was going through some troubles, so I was thinking of moving up state to be with her," Arthur continued.

Gwen paused, smiling at the memory of Arthur rushing to Morgana's side the moment her memories came to the surface of their relationship. Part of the reason he moved to the city was to help his half-sister, but the other was solely devoted to finding Merlin.

"That's very kind of you."

"Well she's my sister, sir."

"Now do Angel and her get along?" Tom inquired, and Gwen bit back a smile.

Eager to hear his reply, she stepped away from the dishwasher and inclined her head around the corner. Before she could make another move, however, her mother's startled cries brought her back to reality. She turned just in time to see her grip the hem of her shirt.

"Angel, honey, your shirt is caught in the dishwasher," Margaret warned, and as Gwen whirled around to catch herself, a glass bowl tumbled to the ground, shattering upon impact.

Voices silenced outside the kitchen, and Gwen could see her father and Arthur craning their heads around the corner. "Ignore that," Gwen begged, and Margaret shook her head at her daughter's antics while Tom struggled to repress his laughter.

Gwen headed back into the kitchen, but not before glancing in Arthur's direction. Her fiancé sent her a supportive smile, knowing her nerves were getting the better of her. He wanted desperately to spare her from this confrontation, but they needed information, and in Gwen's eyes, they were breaking her parents' hearts along the way.

* * *

Dinner finished quickly after a round of cheesecake and wine, and Tom ushered the couples into the living room. They sat around the television, curled up in one another's arms as Gwen's mother popped a horror movie on. The next few hours were spent in darkness, the occasional fearful whimper, and the screams when a particular frightening scene arose. Arthur couldn't argue; he was completely content to fall asleep on the leather sofa with Gwen curled up against his side.

Before long, he noticed that Gwen had fallen into a quiet slumber beside him. Restraining a yawn, he shifted and gathered in his arms and stood up, ready to put her in bed.

"She asleep already?" Tom asked from the couch across from them. Margaret had retired to bed an hour earlier, leaving the remaining three to concentrate on the movie.

Arthur raised his head, eyes flickering away reluctantly from Gwen's form. "Yeah… Do you mind if I carry her to bed?"

Tom nodded, and Arthur scooped his fiancée into his arms, carefully adjusting his grip so that her head was nestled in the crook of his neck. As he made a move to leave, the older man stopped him. "You're different than I expected, Bradley."

"…I hope that's a good thing, sir."

"Believe me, it is," Tom said quietly. "You treat her well. You're a good kid."

"Thank you."

Tom stood up, stretching so that the pops and groans of his aching joints were heard. "Thank you for looking after my daughter." He clicked the television off and followed Arthur's retreating form down the hall. "Sleep well."

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle as he watched Tom slip into his bedroom and close the door. The younger male stepped forward and lowered Gwen onto her bed. Immediately, the woman woke up with a tired smile on her face. "I thought he would never leave."

"I knew you weren't asleep."

"We need to talk," she murmured against his shirt as he slipped onto the bed with her, pulling the comforter over the two of them. Arthur glanced around the room, a wide grin worming its way on his face, noticing her room and everything that made up her childhood still in picture-perfect condition. It was like a shrine to everything that Gwen was. "I'm sorry for not telling them about our engagement, Arthur, I just… Something told me it wasn't the right time."

Arthur nodded. "I understand." He squeezed her hand. "It was nice to meet your parents. They're…"

"A little insane?"

"No more than Merlin."

The smile remained on her face. "I miss him… Do you think he remembers us?"

"I sure hope so." Arthur sighed and buried his face in Gwen's dark curls, inhaling the familiar scent of strawberries and cherry blossoms. "Do you think your father remembers _anything_?"

"If he did I don't think he'd say anything considering he was executed last time we saw him," she admitted, tracing patterns across Arthur's chest, shaking her head. "When should we ask him?"

"Obviously tomorrow," he answered. "We have to head back to school tomorrow afternoon."

Gwen thought back to their apartment which they shared with Morgana. She found herself missing the girl's wry humor and dry wit. She could do with a little sarcasm and bitter taste right about now rather than face her parents' reactions. However, the potential of finding her best friend in this lifetime kept her rooted firmly in the small town she had grown up. The prospect of her father possibly coming across the man with wide blue-eyes and the full-tooth grin made everything worth it.

Gwen would be the first to admit that Merlin meant the world to her. He was her constant rock throughout their Camelot years, and to lose both him and Arthur at the same time caused her to fall into a hole of oblivion where nothing seemed to be right. The following years she ruled Camelot to the best of her ability, time slipping by as the Golden Age reigned. It was meaningless though, because for all the good she did afterwards, it was Once and Future King and the warlock Emrys who made it possible.

She could never repay Merlin for all his sacrifices, could never describe in words just how much he meant to her, and could never thank him enough for giving her the endless possibilities for peace and prosperity.

She thought back to the vision that Morgana had. How had it been connected to Merlin? "Do you think my father's story has anything to do with Merlin?"

Arthur was silent for a moment before shrugging his shoulders, Gwen's head bobbing with the motion. She snuggled closer to her fiancé when he finally settled. "I just don't know, Guinevere."

Her thoughts drifted off as Arthur's steady heartbeat lulled her into a light slumber, but before she could fully embrace the dark abyss, she raised her gaze to meet the other man's. "What do you think Merlin's doing right now?"

Leaning forward, Arthur rested his chin on top of her head. "Probably spending time in the tavern."

"You mean the bar?"

"Or whatever other excuse Gaius can come up with."

Gwen laughed to herself more than anything. "Where do you think Gaius is? Do you think he came back too?"

"Everyone else did," Arthur insisted. "That stubborn old man would have made it too."

"I hope it all works out," Gwen confessed. She tugged the covers over her shoulders and burrowed herself in the blankets, rolling onto her side. Arthur was reluctant to let go, but he choose to just grasp her hand in his own.

"It will, Guinevere, I promise," he said. There was silence before he spoke again. "You can stay here for a few more days, handle the fallout of the engagement news."

Gwen raised her eyebrow. "Oh, and where would you be?"

"Far away."

Gwen grabbed his shirt and leaned her head closer to Arthur, pressing their lips together in a quick kiss. When they parted, she knew Arthur had been joking. "You're horrible, you know that?"

"Of course, Mrs. Pendragon," he said before kissing her once more, only softer and slower. It molded into something sensual as he rolled over on top of her, resting his body gently against hers. The two fought for dominance, and just simply embraced one another's company. They had a thousand years to make up for, and a few months after meeting in this life just wasn't enough time.

After a while, they broke apart and simply lay in bed until Arthur murmured into Gwen's hair, "How are we going to tell them? About us?" Dead silence filled the room; Gwen was sure she stopped breathing all together. "Do you think they'll be that angry? Maybe they'll support it."

She shook her head. "I just don't know, Arthur."

"I'll still be here," he promised.

"I know."

"And I think we all need to talk now," a voice sounded from the open doorway suddenly, without any notice, and Arthur and Gwen jumped apart. There was a muted thud as Arthur rolled off the bed, finding Tom Leodegrance towering above him.

Arthur gulped.

* * *

"You've remembered this whole time?"

There was silence, a short heart beat. It felt like forever, but time passed by.

Time continued on at the speed of light. It lunged and leaped into a new journey, dropping from highs, and jumping up from lows, through the drops and highs, pass it does. Most claim that as time passes, one is stuck in your current state of mind forever – that there is never a chance to turn back. However, this certain stop in time changed everything. And with it, came a new revelation.

"Angel," Tom began, but his daughter merely shook her head, unable to comprehend the situation. "Angel, I… Let me explain."

"Why don't you call me Gwen?"

Tom sighed to himself, refusing to meet Arthur and Gwen's gazes. "Because it reminds me of Camelot."

"What's wrong with that?" she asked, tears pricking in the corners of her eyes. " _I_ was in Camelot. So was _Elyan_. _My life was in Camelot_!"

Tom tried to hush her as Arthur rubbed her arms in an up-and-down motion to calm her. "We… Our lives are better this time, Angel. Your mother is alive. You're so happy here."

"I was happy _there_ too."

"Look," Tom began, raising his gaze to meet Arthur's inquiring ones and Gwen's watery ones. "You obviously came here for a reason, and it wasn't for our approval. If it was, you have my blessing to get married." When he saw Gwen's incredulous stare, he chuckled. "I know the legends, Angel. I know what happened between you and Arthur and that Lancelot fellow."

"That's not exactly true," Arthur said, but Gwen kicked his shin and he silenced himself.

"I know that something important happened, and you two need something from me. I'm not sure what, but I'll do what I can."

Gwen wasted no time. "When we were younger, you said you met a woman in New York and helped deliver her baby. We need the full story."

Tom was taken back. " _What_?"

"Please," Arthur pleaded, eyes shining in hope. "There's a possibility that child and woman might be someone we know… Someone we knew from Camelot."

Tom sighed and wrung his hands together in his lap. "That… That was New Year's Eve nearly twenty years ago," Tom began, looking off into the distance as his thoughts slipped into the memories of two decades past. "And I still remember that night…" A weak laugh was interjected. "There was a blizzard that night. It was already starting, though, when I got into the cab. A good amount of snow was already on the ground. Traffic was stopped; the cars were bumper to bumper. I looked out the window at one point. I don't really know why, but that's when I saw her. A woman was on the sidewalk, hunched over in pain. She was pregnant, something was screaming at me to help her."

Arthur learned closer. "Do you know who she was?"

"Her name was Caroline," Tom clarified, a small smile gracing his face. "I made the driver stop, and it was like I was on auto-pilot. The next thing I know, I'm helping Caroline into the back of the cab, and she's screaming that she needed to push." Tom looked straight at his daughter with the utmost fondness. "Margaret was the same way with you, Angel… Anyway, I sent the driver across the street to the drug storewith a list of supplies and helped get Caroline situated. I knew that we would never get to the nearest hospital in time, and I knew what I was doing. The baby was coming so fast! It was determined to be born that night…"

"Was she alright?" Arthur questioned, never having heard the story before. "Was the-"

Tom chuckled lightly. "It was a boy." His expression turned somber at once. "The labor went fine, and she delivered a healthy baby boy. He already had a head full of dark hair. It was an amazing sight to behold, truly."

Arthur squeezed Gwen's hand; something told him that this was it. _They had found Merlin._ Perhaps Tom Leodegrance had stayed in contact with Caroline and her son. Perhaps he knew the boy now a day. Perhaps they exchanged Christmas cards every year. What if Merlin came walking through that door right now?

"But... When I tried to give Caroline her son, she started rambling nonsense things… Like how she couldn't take care of him! How he was better off anywhere else but with her! I thought she was just exhausted from the delivery. I had planned to take her and the boy to the hospital but…." Tom's voice trailed off, as if he was reliving the same panic and confusion he had faced all those years ago.

The blood froze in Arthur's veins. This wasn't happening.

"Caroline," Tom stammered, and Gwen cast him a worried glance. She had never heard this side of the story. "Caroline pulled a knife out and threatened me and her son. She said to take him away, away from her." Gwen's breath caught in her throat. "What… What was I supposed to do? She… I thought if I gave her the boy she would kill him. So I… I left her in the back of that cab and ran to the hospital. I panicked. All I cared about was getting that baby boy to safety. He had just been born, and we were in the middle of a blizzard for God's sake! What was I supposed to do?

"When… When I got to the hospital, they took the boy away. The police were called and I told them everything I knew… I… The nurses were trying to fill out his birth certificate, and I told them that Caroline had named him Colin. I don't know why I choose that name, but it was the closest to what I thought was meant for the boy. The police never found the mother… Well, they found her apartment, but by then, Caroline was long gone. I visited Colin for a little while afterwards, but eventually, he became a ward of the state and was placed into foster care.

"I never sat any of them ever again," Tom finished. "I tried to look for Colin or Caroline even on my own, but… And that's it… That's the story."

Silence followed. Gwen wasn't able to form any coherent statements. Arthur was shell-shocked. There wasn't any way to continue with the conversation after the painful revelation. If Colin was Merlin (Arthur was almost certain), then Caroline was Hunith. That particular piece of the back story did not fit the puzzle. Arthur had seen how strong Hunith and Merlin's relationship had been. Often times he found himself envious of it all because it was a relationship he never had with his own mother – in Camelot or this life. For Hunith to blow it all away… It just did not make sense.

What were they supposed to do now?

* * *

Miles away, a young boy were huddled in the corner of a dark alley. His eyes were closed in a fitful slumber, but they snapped open, molten gold fading to reveal a cerulean color. A door opened to his shelter, and he scrambled to his feet, eager to make a run for it. An old man toddled out into the alley way and gazed at the form standing there.

"Merlin," the old man whispered and hurried forward, noticing the lack of recognition on the boy's part.

"My name's Colin," he stammered, flinching as the old man's hands came towards him. "Please… P-Please don't t-turn me in. P-P-Please."

"I won't," the old man vowed. He cocked his head to the side, analyzing the boy, before gesturing towards the open door. "It's cold outside. Would you like to come inside?" The boy blanched with fear. "Shh… You can trust me, Colin. My name is Richard, and I want to help you."

It was with hesitation that the young boy took the old, weathered hand of the doctor.

The dragon roared again.


	6. The Tears of Merlin Emrys - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, remember. Michelle is Nimueh. Richard is Gaius. Colin is Merlin. And Tom is Cenrad.

[hr]  
[align=center][b]Chapter Five[/b]  
[i]"A fragile frame aged  
With misery  
And when our eyes meet  
I know you see."  
-"Cut" by Plumb[/i][/align]  
[hr]  
Colin had never been afraid of the dark.

The other children in the foster home would tremble in fear the moment the sun disappeared, darkness stretching over their surroundings as night rolled in. They would wait with baited breath every evening, watching as it danced just above the horizon, streaks of pink, purple, and blue painted across the sky, blending together in a complex ad beautiful dance until they were unified into a navy blanket. Dots of bright light littered the dark canvas as the morning star slipped lower and lower until the darkest hour was upon them.

The children would shake and cower in fear, eyes wide with fright as they huddled together under thin and stained sheets, desperately wishing the sun would rise simultaneously on the other side of town, its warm rays seeking to illuminate the shadowed corners and hollowed halls. Eventually, the children would sigh with relief and roll out of bed to greet the blossoming down the very next morning, leaving to enjoy the wonders of daylight.

Except for one small child whose thin frame shook with icy shivers of fear, tremors rocketing down his spine, afraid to leave the safety and serenity that night brought, choosing to prolong the moment between reality and fantasy for just a little while longer.

Daylight meant facing his deranged foster mother, Michelle, who seemed to know everything at once and yet nothing at all. The rest of the children were showered with promises of a home and family someday awaiting them with open arms and smiles of welcome. Michelle made each and every child who entered her house feel loved and accepted with the possibility of a better tomorrow. It reassured the youngsters that all would be well if they survive the darkness, awaking to their Mother Michelle the next day. However, Colin wished for nothing but the dark, a sweet reprieve from the sufferings of everyday life, where the shadows offered an ignorance he gladly embraced.

You see, Colin wasn't a normal child. He was born without any knowledge of who he was or why he had come to be. All he knew was that his earliest memory was standing in front of a mirror, his blue eyes wide and glowing a molten gold. It was the day he realized that it was unleashed whenever he lost control of his emotions and caused all of his foster parents to give him away. Some part of Colin knew, even in the very beginning, that this ability of his caused too many trouble and he had to hide it from everyone. If he didn't, he would be killed or possibly something even worse.

He wanted so dearly to be normal, but ever since he was a baby, he had harnessed a rare ability he could only deem as a demonic power - magic almost. At times, it occurred in states of heightened emotions, but as time dragged on, he had learned to control the ability and nearly put a stop to it. He knew he was a freak, a supernatural psychopath, a man against nature. However, he never had answers as to why he was this way for he had spent his entire life in foster care, never having met his biological parents. But, eventually, he had learned to live with what he was – no matter how much he hated that society exiled him even if they didn't know the truth about him. He had so many questions: why was he never wanted? Why was he never cared for? Why did no one love him? Why was he this way? He questioned all of this, but it didn't change the situation.

It didn't stop the pain, however. They seemed to be some people who knew what and who he was even when he himself didn't. He supposed it all started with Michelle. He never knew her surname, nor did he ever bother finding out. Out of all the foster parents he had, they never seemed to pick up on his abilities (or whatever it truly was). Instead, they wrote him off as mentally insane or just plain "unfit to civilize with other children"; soon after each placement, he was sent back to the system and he was shuffled into another house. Colin never stayed in the same place for very long. A year was the longest period of time he had spent in a foster home with a lovely lady he couldn't remember the name too; he was three at the time. (He had called her "Mary") She fed him different kinds of stew throughout the winter, when the blistery air attacked his scrawny frame, the icy shivers threatening to send him into convulsions. In the summer, she'd allow him to help make pastries and sticky buns, when the sun danced high in the sky and Colin danced high through life.

However, soon after, she discovered his magic and sent him away. They all did in the end.

He began, even at a young age, to wonder what it would be life if he was ever accepted, what would occur if someone took him in. What would happen if someone cared? Would his life be different? Would his appearance become someone full of life, high on imagination, and facing the benefits of optimism? Often times, he would lay awake at night, and his dreams would start to get the best of him. Each time, however, they would be close to coming true, but then they were snatched away because of his magic, and he was only left with the cloud of desire swirling between lingering fingers.

So as the heartbreak became a permanent fixture in his life, dulled by the pain of rejection in everyday life, and the smiles came less and less, he was granted the brief reprieve of his dreams. Somehow, when his head hit the pillow, he was granted pictures of a young woman who laughed as the wind whistled through the magnolia trees which bordered a small village, when he would suddenly appear and hug her, then she would kiss him on the cheek, regardless of his age, and both would laugh loud with joy emitting from them in huge loads. When it was dark, his subconscious took over, and it made him happy.

Then he met Michelle.

That's when everything changed. You see, Colin could handle the rejection. He could not handle the pain. From the get go, the older woman seemed to know what he could do. His dreams turned into nightmares when he met Michelle, and he was then sentenced to a life of misery, and even though he held onto those first six years of dreams with the woman who he wished he had in life, it was merely a delusion his decreasing mental sanity could conjure up.

Michelle was a young woman, perhaps her mid-thirties, but she seemed to know things well beyond her years. For some reason, even from the moment Colin first stepped across the threshold into his new foster home, she hated him. No, Colin concluded years later, she loathed him, despised him. He never knew why, just that she took it out on him daily. The other children were safe and secure in their beds, and they were given food when wanted, hugs when scared, and love when there was none. Colin, on the other hand, was denied the basic necessities of life: food was sparse, hugs and love were nonexistent, and safety and security could never be found. It wasn't so much physical abuse as mental. The only lasting scares he had from that time were the memories of her cruelty and the malnourishment that followed him for almost the rest of his life.

Of course, there were the occasional slaps Michelle dealt out to "control his naughty behavior" but there was something else that happened there. An event that Colin could never talk about because it would cause him to be thrown into a mental asylum. After all, who would believe anything regarding magic? You see, Michelle seemed to know what he could do from the moment she met him. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Colin could hear her murmuring words that seemed as ancient as time itself and a few times after that, he swore her eyes turned the same brilliant gold his did. After any such happening, his magic would be repressed for days. Colin, if he had a choice, wished that his magic would be repressed for all of eternity. However, when his magic was repressed, he felt ill. He felt empty. It seemed, however much he tried to deny it, magic was a part of him. He couldn't get rid of it no matter how hard he tried. And after every episode, it always came back.

He was sentenced to this life, and there was no way to change it.

Colin stayed in Michelle's care until he was twelve years old. She never sent him away, and he knew if he fought back, it'd end rather badly. By the time the six years had passed, it felt so much longer. It was the worst place he had ever stayed, but the way Colin saw it, he had a roof over his head and (sometimes) food in his belly. He had nightmares of what had occurred, and he doubted they would ever go away, but he wasn't taking anything for granted. He had become used to the day-to-day life here. However, everything changed the day Michelle tried to take his magic. Colin wouldn't have fought her save for the fact that she tried to kill him to do so. Contrary to popular belief, Colin would rather live alone with magic than die without it.

It started on a day much like any other. He was sprawled across his cot in his shared bedroom, scrawling aimless answers across a page in his textbook when Michelle's voice rang out from the open door, echoing from her room down the hall. He hesitantly pushed off the bed, stepping into the empty hall. The rest of the children were out and about on the Saturday morning, so unfortunately, it was merely he and Michelle that occupied the premises.

"Michelle?" Colin asked tentatively. "Did you-"

All it took was one quick glance in his direction before the older woman's eyes flashed a bright gold, sending him flying into the opposite wall. The world was spinning as he hurtled into the nightstand beside the dresser, the furniture splintering into pieces, the wood piercing his torso. The wind had been knocked out of him, and he just lay there, gasping for some form of air. His vision began to blur as his head throbbed on endlessly. Pain was all he felt; darkness was all he heard; and it seemed like nonexistent screams was all he heard.

Michelle's soprano voice sang out like wind chimes from across the room. "You're quite different, Colin. How brave you used to be. If only it were true in this life." Her trickling laughter sounded as she crept forward, navy eyes flashing as she brushed her dark hair behind her ear. "Alas, you don't remember anything. It takes some thrill out of the game, I'll admit, but it'll be all so worth it when I win."

"I don't [i]understand![/i]" Colin gasped, fighting to stand on trembling feet.

"We used to be too valuable to be enemies, but it seems you made it so," Michelle said, sending shivers down the boy's spine. "I am going to do what I should have done all those years ago on that god forsaken Isle. I am going to make it so that I will bring about destiny this time."

Colin tried relentlessly to stand as Michelle whipped her hand in his general direction, sending him sprawling across the floor. [i]"You have magic!"[/i] Colin cried out as he propped himself on shaky hands and knees.

"Don't act so surprised! You knew all along. You and I are both creatures of the Old Religion with one difference. I remember who I am, what I was. You… You know [i]nothing[/i]. You're simply an unwanted child. Your own mother was scared of what you could do. No worries, though, my dear Colin. I shall take what is rightfully mine. It's taken me six years to gather the necessities for this specific ritual, but you should thank me. You won't have to worry about your magic ever again. That's what you always wanted, right?"

Colin tried to do something, anything, but Michelle interrupted his train of thought with a single word. "[i]Ástríce!"[/i] Her eyes glowed gold.

Colin once more felt the ground leave from beneath him as he went sailing into the wall. His right ankle was pinned under him as he collapsed to the ground; it twisted in a way it wasn't supposed too and he was sure he heard something snap. The pain was absolutely mind numbing. It traveled up his leg and throughout the rest of his body, stealing away his ability to scream or even breathe as he lost his footing completely and plummeted downward. Another agonizing jolt shot through him as he hit the floor.

Colin did not move for a moment or two, just lying on the ground limply, completely unaware of the world around him. He spent an undeterminable amount of time simply laying there, trying to force some air into his lungs. His vision was suddenly dark around the edges, and he knew he was on his way to passing out from the pain that throbbed through him, originating from his twisted ankle. The rest seemed to happen too quickly. He could hear Michelle's voice murmuring words in the same ancient language as before, but he heard it through a murky curtain. He rose shakily on his hands and knees and attempted to stand. It was the wrong idea. A wave of nausea rolled through him and he gasped, spewing the contents of his stomach out onto the bedroom floor.

He did not know how long he stayed like that, propped up and trembling. It felt like a lifetime honestly. Sweat dripped from his hairline and slide down his face, dropping from his nose and chin to the floor. Pain drummed a rhythm against his skill, and he couldn't even hear Michelle anymore. Misery and exhaustion seemed to flow through his veins as naturally as his blood did. He might have stayed that way forever if it had not been for another voice to emerge from the surrounding air.

It was like a memory.

[i]"Your childish tricks are useless against me, Merlin. I am a priestess of the Old Religion. Forbærne! You, too, are a creature of the Old Religion. You should join me."[/i]

"What?" Colin stammered, trying to make sense of the words. It was in Michelle's voice, but his mind flashed him a picture of a desolate island, his foster mother in a torn dress, her eyes glazed over with arrogance and hatred.  
[i]  
"You think I would join forces with such a selfish and cruel magic? Never."[/i]

His chest burned, but Colin couldn't remember ever hearing it. The air seemed to crackle with the amount of magic Michelle was summoning, her voice growing octaves higher, her chanting longer.  
[i]  
"Pity. Together we could've ruled the world."[/i]

Colin's own voice thundered back. [i]"You should not have killed my friend."  
[/i]  
He could hear the distant screams of the memory Michelle, but he didn't know what was real. In that moment, Colin truly feared for his sanity. It felt like he was under water, unable to breathe or comprehend the situation. He knew of two things: his ankle was severely injured and that Michelle was going to kill him. Summoning the strength he had within him, Colin pushed himself off of the ground and grasped onto the edge of the bed for leverage. He rose unsteadily, but he stood up none the less. The movement caused another roll of nausea to wash over him, but he ignored it and staggered to the closed bedroom door where he knew he could escape into the world - albeit frail, lost, confused, hurt, sick, and all alone.

[i]"Agan mé bealucræft!"[/i]

From the second he saw that dagger hurtling toward him, reacting purely on instinct, he sent the weapon flying back. It hit the target and Michelle fell to the ground, fighting to stop the blossoming bloodstain that blanketed her blouse. Colin knew he had to get away from the scene, but it didn't stop him from hobbling around. He couldn't get blamed for her murder. He didn't even have time to think of what he had down, killing a person. It didn't matter if she was going to kill him. He had killed someone with his magic. He was a murderer.

He knew that now. However, he also knew that he would have to survive, and if that meant accepting his fate, then so be it.

He rushed forward, falling beside Michelle's body and scrambled for the phone. If he could make it seem like she staged the first attack, then it'd be alright. He couldn't be sent to the Horror House as the rest of the children called it. The place where foster kids like themselves were thrown into a place where everyone had problems. Colin assumed it would be worse than Michelle's.

"Please," he gasped out when the operator greeted him. "My foster mother… She tried… [i]She tried to kill me[/i]!" He didn't need to pretend to portray his fear; the quiver in his hysterical voice would convince them enough.

He had stood, shell-shocked at the scene at hand, as he awaited the arrival of the police. Time continued on as the investigation pressed, but it had no effect on Colin. His thoughts were fading in and out, black and blue and white and gray flooding his mind. He could not pinpoint anything or anyone or anyplace. Everything was so foreign and dull. Eventually, the police dubbed it as an accidental death or whatever they called falling on the knife now a day when attempting to murder someone else. In the end, the case was wrapped up; Michelle was dead; and the children were given to different homes.

However, Colin was always suspected for the crime but never prosecuted.

Instead, he was sent away to a multitude of foster homes. He stayed with the Henson's for two years, the nonchalant Derek Watson for another two, and then, he met Tom. Tom Ellis. He was the type of person who had foster kids for the money. Every month, the state would send him a check to cover the necessities of caring for Colin, but the teenager never saw that money. Tom was just like Michelle. He seemed to know Colin from the very beginning, knew what he was and who he was. The minute the social worker closed that heavy, maple door of the apartment, the poor boy was against the wall, white-knuckled hands wrapped around his neck, words hissing through his ears, revenge at the tip of the man's tongue.

Tom was physically abusive, plan and simple. He had his own brand of discipline, and he exerted it whenever Colin refused to use his magic for his own gain. Colin never settled for it. He refused to stand down like a scared little child. He fought against Tom, eventually running from his care after eight months. It was the first time that Colin faced the horrors of the outside world.

As well as saw the hope of it all.

He had been on the run for two months when he first met Santiago. The older man had taken him into his home one winter night when Colin was at his lowest point, offering him shelter and warmth. It was the first time Colin ever remembered feeling safe other than in his dreams of the lady in the village. He remembered how Santiago had stepped forward while the night club owner prodded at him to leave the protection of the alley way. Colin had merely buried his face in his blanket as Mike pushed at him to move and coolly asked him to leave. He had ignored them in hopes of being awarded silence in surviving. He had been broken and alone, fighting to survive. It hadn't been long, however, when a comforting hand was placed on his numb shoulder. The only way he had felt it was the way the fingers brushed against his soft hair, wet from the snow that clung to his scrawny figure.

Santiago had rescued him.

But the safety and security wasn't guaranteed. The moment Colin's head hit the pillow, he was overwhelmed with more memories. He was in the wooden room, surrounding by mysterious smells and herbs. Santiago was a man named Lancelot and Colin was a man named Merlin, and they knew one another, separated by a single act that defined their friendship. Colin wished it was true, but the memory frightened him. It was like Michelle and a bit of Tom. Each had an alter ego in his head: Nimueh and Cenrad. But he couldn't make sense of it. He feared that he was losing his mind.

When he awoke, he opened his eyes to see a blank slate. There was silence. There was no fear or pain. He was safe for the moment. But if he concentrated enough, the silence which droned on around him was disturbed by his own stutters of breath as well as the nervous pacing of another body in the room, interrupting the serene setting he had been subjected too.

Santiago had startled him, and as he tried to leave the bedroom, the older man wouldn't let him. Colin had had to leave. He had no means of paying the man for his generousity, and what if Santiago discovered his magic? He'd be sent away for good reason! He knew he was sick, which, in addition meant that he could be exposed. The fears were choking him; when he was sick or distressed, his magic went haywire. When Santiago protected, Colin thundered back, and it caused the lamp beside him to burst into flames.

Colin had jumped back in fair, eyes shining with unshed tears at the events while Santiago stood, wide-eyed, as if seeing the sun for the first time. Colin gather his well-worn converses, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process of escaping the scene. Santiago instinctively reached out to grasp Colin's arm and prevent him from taking leave, but Colin fought back. He ripped his limb from the stranger, feeling heat rush to his head suddenly, and in the mirror across the room, noticed his reflection's eyes flashed a deep gold, visible to Santiago. With a startled yelp, Santiago pulled away, shoving Colin away from him in panic, feeling the rush of power tingle at his fingertips. Before he knew it, he was sent flying into the opposite wall. Colin screamed in terror, closing his eyes in alarm, and before he knew it, the sheets on the bed erupting into a bonfire, startling Santiago even further.

[i]"You need to calm down, Colin!"[/i] Santiago had bellowed out, only to have the teenager take his distracted state to his advantage and make a bolt for the door, startling the other man with a fire extinguisher as he was leaving his room.

Colin found himself sprinting down the busy New York street, towards the alley way he had been discovered in the night before. He wasn't supposed to seek comfort for himself, because he was just the freak of nature from the foster system who would die on the streets and finally rid of the pain he suffered from daily, good as a stress reliever only.

But, for one moment, he wanted to be the boy in desperate need of a saving grace, and Santiago had offered an once-in-a-lifetime to heal some of the wounds that were scarred over and mottled. He could erase the splotches of blue and purple that adjourned his body. He could stop the pain stemming from reality itself. He could give Colin a purpose. Santiago was the Knight, but Colin was afraid because every once in a while his emotions got a hold of him and ruined any hope he ever held close.

He had expected Santiago to let him leave as he ducked into the alley, but the older man had followed him. He extended his help without asking for anything in return. He knew about Colin's magic and yet promised to keep the secret. Colin didn't know whether to embrace him or run far away. In the end, it didn't matter. Santiago offered Colin the name of someone who could understand his predicament – his magic his mind whispered. In the end, it didn't matter. Mike, the nightclub owner, had reported Colin's whereabouts to the police and Tom had found him. He was sent back to live with Tom, but he kept a firm grasp on the name Santiago had given him.

[i]Richard Wilson.[/i]

The events leading up to his capture gave him a new hope. He never said goodbye to Santiago, even though he could somehow read it in the other's eyes. It was a solemn request to escape and come back, a note of finality that he would never give up. He did cry when he met Tom's gleaming gaze; instead, the tears burned at the front of his eyes, and finally spilled when the new bruises throbbed. Eventually, Colin let go of the hope of the possible escape, and the kind stranger was soon a spot of possibility in a sea of shrouded ignorance covering reality.

But no matter how many times Colin tried to mask him pain, he always remembered. Even though Santiago was gone, Colin never forgot him. He remembered the hospitality the man offered, the acceptance in his eyes, and the name he gave. As small as it was, it was a hope Colin welcomed. He moved through life with the same strong façade he portrayed on a daily basis, but there was a noticeable difference. For the first time in nearly a thousand years, Colin's blue eyes held a sparkle of happiness to them.

A week after his return, Colin tried to flee the foster system once more, to escape from the ghoul who wished to harness his abilities for evil. The idea of power corrupted his foster father, and no one ever paid a span of attention, spared his situation a second glance. He woke up in the middle of the night, screaming as sweat broke out across his brow from the nightmares, phantom pain succumbing to the brutal agony of reality's hands.

He needed to find [i]Richard Wilson.[/i]

It was one cruel night when there was a chance.

Tom was angry, beyond actually. Colin had refused to aide him in the latest scheme without so much as hearing the proposition aloud. His foster father had loomed over him before striking. Now, two fists pounded him relentlessly as he peered through the closed slits of his eyes, holding tight against the pain in his stomach. The hits came all too frequently, and he tugged against the bindings that Tom had placed on his wrists. But the hand cuffs were doing their job, preventing Colin from any hopes of surrendering.

His attacked gazed on with a sharp smirk as he laughed another punch towards Colin's shoulder. Colin heard the bone crunch on impact and tears merely rolled harder down his already tear-stained face. He held in the screams. He would not give Tom the satisfaction of knowing he was hurting him.

A kick was forcefully thrust his way, and it clipped his injured shoulder. Colin hissed in absolutely agony. He felt each swift collision to his entire body and each time he struggled to keep in his cries. A particularly painful hit embedded itself between the bones of his rib cage, and the bones cracked.

His voice yelled out in pain; his screams reverberated off of the walls. Tom pulled back his fist once more. All that could be heard were Colin's echoing screams. All he could do was keep on yelling because if he tried to escape, it'd only make maters worse. He wanted it to be over.

"How does it feel?" Tom said, laughter booming deep in his chest. "Did it hurt you little son of a bitch?"

The words twisted and twirled past Colin's ears as the silence settled in. All that was audible were the sounds of Colin's sobs as Tom left the room, chuckling all the while, after untying Colin who was begging for relief from the pain he was enduring and the agony that was currently crippling him. The seventeen-year-old knew he needed to leave; if he stayed then there was a chance he might now make it out alive the next time.

Rocking back on his haunches, biting back the cries of pain, he shimmied over to his bed, gathering his belongings. The next few minutes passed by in a blur as Colin waited until Tom could no longer be heard before ducking out of his window and onto the fire escape below. When he finally hit the ground, he limped away from the apartment building as quickly as possible, the shivers racing down his spine, the blistery air making his breathes come out in clouds. He kept going. Something was pulling him away.

He wasn't sure how long he kept going, but, eventually he collapsed into a deserted alley. For some reason he felt safe there, for the first time in a long while, and he huddled in the corner, closing his eyes and falling into a fitful slumber. Moments later though, something clicked, and he opened them, knowing his magic was kicking in for his protection.

Someone was coming.

An old man toddled out into the alleyway and gazed at him. "Merlin," he whispered, hurrying forward, but Colin didn't recognize him and feared for the worse.

"My name's Colin," he stammered, flinching as the old man's hands came towards him. "Please… P-Please don't t-turn me in. P-P-Please."

"I won't," the old man vowed. He cocked his head to the side, analyzing the boy, before gesturing towards the open door. "It's cold outside. Would you like to come inside?" Colin blanched with fear. "Shh… You can trust me, Colin. My name is Richard, and I want to help you."

It was with hesitation that Colin took the old, weathered hand of the doctor. Something clicked once more and the memory of an aging physician danced at the forefront of his mind. His warm eyes looked on with pride, and he was seated across from Colin in the memory. Colin had no idea who this man was, but something told him it was alright.

For the first time, Colin knew he was safe.

Across the world, a mighty dragon answered with a deafening roar. Her warlock had been found.


	7. The Tears of Merlin Emrys - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> b]Arthur's Note[/b]
> 
> Welcome my wonderful writers, resourceful readers, and faithful followers!
> 
> This is the second half of my Colin/Merlin chapter. I know the Gaius/Merlin situations mirror the first episode, but I feel like it was the correct way to go about it. Some people might think it's a bit cheesy/corny, and I realize it is, but I'm a sentimental person, so I am continuing with this route.
> 
> AND, I apologize for all the mistakes/typos/errors in the past chapters. Luckily, I found CaptainOzone who beta'd this chapter, and I owe her so much. She's a miracle worker, seriously.
> 
> In this chapter, Michelle is Nimueh. Tony is Uther. Bradley is Arthur. Katie is Morgana. Richard is Gaius. Colin is Merlin. And Tom is Cenrad.
> 
> There are big 5x13 and 1x01 spoilers for this chapter.
> 
> Again, here's the usual. Enjoy the chapter, and please review. I like to hear what you thought of the chapter, what you didn't like, any questions or concerns, your favorite parts, and any suggestions/comments about my writing in general. 
> 
> Onto the chapter,
> 
> Erin  
> [hr]
> 
> [b]WARNING: mentions of child abuse/drug and alcohol abuse[/b]

[hr]  
[align=center][b]Chapter Six[/b]  
[i]"They say before you start a war,  
You better know what you're fighting for.  
Well baby, you are all I adore,  
If love is what you need, a solider I will be.."  
-"Angel With A Shotgun" by The Cab[/i][/align]  
[hr]  
Colin didn't like to dream.

It wasn't that he didn't want to relinquish reality's hold for a few hours and slip into oblivion – no, there were some days when he wished for nothing more. For Colin, it was the fact that he was never granted serenity; instead, he was sentenced to a fitful slumber where nightmares of past events flooded his mind. Sometimes he dreamed of Michelle's dark blue eyes flashing wildly before the dagger plunged into her chest. At other times, it was Tom's laugh resounding endlessly through Colin's head as he tried to defend himself from the numerous blows. On rare occasion, though, he didn't mind the dreams since they brought him something.

It wasn't peace but rather a reprieve.

On some nights, he'd nestle deep into his pillow and surrender himself to tales of knights and dragons. There was a damsel in distress in the top of the tower and a courageous king who went to save her. There were wizards and witches, magic used to protect great princes. Good always triumphed, and it made Colin smile. He knew they could never be real since he had been swimming in Hell's waters since he was born, but it was nice to believe that there was some goodness in the world.

This time, however, Colin's dreams didn't make any sense.

He had no memory of ever falling unconscious, but when he awoke, his body felt numb and he felt safe. The only image dancing at the forefront of his mind was of a kind old man who extended a hand to aid him, offering security where there was fear and love where there was none. It wasn't from this century, though; instead, the old man was in the middle of a medieval town, beaming with pride.

[i]Gaius[/i], his mind whispered, and the name rolled off his tongue subconsciously, but Colin couldn't make any sense of it...

He slowly opened his eyes to a dimly lit room, and only then did some semblance of pain begin to build. His neck was sore from his whiplash during his incident with Tom, and his skull throbbed in time with his heartbeat which pitter-patted away at the speed of a hummingbird's wings. He took a deep breath and attempted to sit up, using his elbows as leverage, but the moment he moved, a sharp pain shot through his body and he collapsed. He realized he was on a bed – a very comfortable bed - as he let himself relax. Sweat broke out across his brow, but Colin didn't have the energy to wipe it away.

He had never felt so helpless before.

Stealing more strength from his reserves, Colin gritted his teeth and made another attempt to right himself when the bedroom door opened. His body froze as if ice, cold water had been drenched on him, and his heart began to pound loudly in his chest. He didn't dare look at the door in fear that it was Tom and that this was all a sick, twisted game he was enacting. He waited with baited breath as a shadow loomed over him, clenching his hands into tight fists as he fought to restrain his magic.

"Colin?" The hoarse voice reached his ears, and he nearly sobbed with relief when he realized it wasn't his foster father. "How are you feeling?"

Colin turned his head to the side, meeting the wondering eyes of the old man from the night before. A blanket of white hair covered the top of the man's head, and bright blue eyes narrowed with an emotion Colin couldn't quite place. He wore casual attire, but his shirt was crumbled as if he had been grasping it to ease anxiety. Even now, Colin could see the man tapping his fingers along the edge of the cot. He crept closer, and Colin refused to move. He didn't understand why he stayed in place, but for the first time in a long while, he felt safe. For some reason, he knew that this man wouldn't hurt him.

"I'm fine," Colin grunted, but his throat flared with pain as if he hadn't talked in months. He knew it was raw from his screams the night before.

The old man, sensing his discomfort, offered him a glass of water, and the teenager chugged it down without a second thought. The old man chuckled lightly as he took the glass back, smiling down at the young boy. "Be careful, now. We just got you settled."

Colin swallowed a lump in his throat, fighting back a way of nausea at his uncertainty. "Where… Where exactly am I?"

"I found you in the alley last night behind my clinic. My name's Richard. I'm a doctor."

Colin closed his eyes tightly, trying to remember the events of the night before, but all he was left with was a hazy memory of Tom and then his escape. He remembered his fear of being hurt worse, the pure desperation, and above all, the need to get away, the need to find time to heal.

Suddenly, the edges of his vision began to blur as he snapped them open, panic taking hold of his frame and sending him skyward with fear. "I have to get home! Tom, he's-"

"Calm down," Richard said, soothing the seventeen-year-old, "You are in no shape to go rushing out of here like a mad man. You're injured, Colin. You need to rest."

"No," Colin said, shaking his head, trying his hardest to push past the pain and swing his legs over the side of the cot to stand, "You don't understand. He'll-"

Immediately, Colin reminisced on the words Tom had left him with after his last escape attempt. [i]"If you try it again, I'll report you. I'll tell everyone of how you have magic. I'll find a way to make your life a living hell, boy. Whoever keeps you away from me, I'll kill them. What about that sweet, little friend of yours that helped you last time? What was his name again? Santiago? He's first, you little bastard. You try to escape, and I'll kill him."[/i]

Richard held his hands out in objection. "Just-Just-Just [i]stay[/i]," the older man suddenly commanded, stammering over his words.

Colin froze. [i]"Just-Just-Just hold me."[/i]

"Listen," Richard continued, "You have a GH dislocation and-"

"What?" Colin interjected, raising his eyebrow in confusion.

Richard offered him a fond smile. "You dislocated your shoulder… [i]Will you lie back[/i]?" Colin managed to send him a sheepish look but cringed as he settled back into the pillow. "As I said before, you dislocated your shoulder. You have two broken ribs. Numerous contusions and lacerations – all superficial, don't worry."

There was a short beat of silence before Colin squirmed under Richard's analyzing stare. "Thank you, very much, but I really do need to go."

"You aren't going anywhere." Richard's quiet and frantic voice caused him to halt his actions, and a flash of panic reared its head, his magic flaring with the apprehensive emotions, and he struggled to hold down the rising power.

"Please," he choked out. It felt as if he had no energy left, but he knew he needed to get back to the apartment or Tom would have his head (quite literally perhaps). "You don't understand. He'll kill me! He-"

"Listen to me," Richard said, reaching out with a hand to grasp Colin's uninjured shoulder, paying no attention when the boy flinched away instinctively. He was insistent that he was going to keep him, and Colin feared what the outcome would be. "You need rest, and something tells me that where you want to go isn't going to give it to you."

Colin couldn't believe what he was hearing. This man – this man who had no knowledge of who he was – wanted to help him. He wanted to keep him safe. How could Colin repay him, though? He had no money, no source of income. The only thing he had to his name was his magic, but that could never help him – only condemn him. Colin tried to speak but his mind couldn't form the words he needed to convey his confusion.

Richard stood up and nodded towards him. "Try to get some sleep. I promise: everything will be alright. No one will hurt you while you're here." Colin let out a weak protest and tried to sit up, but Richard held him back once more. "Listen to me. [i]Colin, listen[/i]-"

Colin kept trying to push past the older man, panic setting in. All he saw were Tom's cruel eyes flashing before his own, and he knew he needed to get back. He couldn't bear to think of what would happen if he stayed. Plus, he was growing frantic now at the thought of being forced to reside here, knowing he had neither the money to pay for Richard's hospitalities or the capability to restrain his emotions which would automatically trigger his magic and possibly injure someone.

It happened so suddenly, so abruptly, that it took Colin's own breath away.

His feeble struggle jostled the table beside the bed where the glass of water was perched on the very edge. It toppled over, and Colin lunged for it out of reflex. All it took was one instant. He felt the build up of warmth in his chest, the rush of power flooding down his arm, and his eyes flashed a bright, molten gold. Richard gasped, and Colin withdrew his hand in shock. The glass of water was suspended in mid-air, refusing to fall. As soon as Colin's attention was elsewhere, it resumed its travel, falling onto the ground below.

Colin froze.

The glass clattered below, rolling to a stop against the opposite wall.

Richard had seen. Someone knew about his magic.  
[i]  
He was doomed.[/i]

The room was spinning, the sky was falling, and Colin was losing it all. He wanted to just slip away, so fate granted his wish. Richard's face swam before him, like a light beneath the water, and he surrendered to the shadows of ignorance, slipping under the surface, floating in a tranquil state. His mind was on the brink of unconsciousness, sleep taking over his every thought. He didn't remember Richard's reaction to his magic. He didn't remember giving into his pain and fear and sinking back into the soft mattress. He didn't remember Richard resigning himself to a frown of worry, pulling the blankets up beneath the boy's chin. He didn't remember the doctor resting a hand against Colin's forehead, feeling the tell-tale signs of an oncoming illness.

And he most certainly did not remember the fatherly way the older man had run his hand through the dark, messy locks tousled atop his head.

As the darkness settled for Colin, he began to dream in colors he didn't even know existed. There was no pain in his head – only peace. All he felt was someone's arms wrapped around him at every moment, comforting him. There was an older man there, murmuring under his breath, "[i]my boy, my boy[/i]." (It sounded oddly like Richard). It came to a point where, in his thin state of being, he realized that this was what he always wished for: a home and someone to care for him.

But for that to happen, they needed to accept his magic.

Soon, his dreams wandered and a man came into view, but Colin could not tell who he was. He had bright blue eyes, not unlike his own, and golden blonde hair that fell into his line of sight. His face flickered behind Colin's eyelids. One moment, it was beaming with awe, as if a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. The next, it was sweaty, covered with dirt and grime, an expression of utter agony painting it. Colin struggled to make out the words the blonde man was hissing, but if he concentrated hard enough, he could barely hear them.

[i]"The person who defeated them was the sorcerer,"[/i] the man asked.

His own voice broke through his dreams. [i]"It was me."[/i]

There were muted whimpers before the man spoke again. [i]"Don't be ridiculous. This is stupid. Why would you say that?"[/i]

[i]"I'm a…"[/i] There was a break in the dialogue as he gathered his strength and replied.[i] "I'm a sorcerer; I have magic…. And I use it for you, Arthur! Only for you!"  
[/i]  
[i]"Merlin, you are not a sorcerer. I would know."[/i]

The voices faded away until they were nothing more than whispers amongst his thoughts. Colin relinquished in his dreams that gave him some hope. Colin didn't like to dream, but for once in his life, he welcomed the reprieve because, for the first time, it gave him some hope for a better future where his magic could be accepted. The dream continued, fading in and out as black, blue, and gold. Everything was so foreign but bright.

As the dreams ventured on, the thought of joining a family was a blessing none the least. Perhaps, when he awoke, he would return to Tom's and set out to find his biological parents and discover answers he had sought after all these years. After thanking the kind doctor, of course, who cared for him in his darkest moments tonight.

With a small smile in his unconscious state, Colin let the darkness overcome him once more, continuing into the beauty of his dreams.

Perhaps he didn't mind dreaming sometimes.  
[hr]  
Colin barely remembered waking up and finding Richard hovering over him. The doctor was taking his temperature, checking the thermometer with a raised eyebrow, glancing over at the boy's beaten form. Colin's eyes were slits, and he wondered vaguely if Richard knew he was awake from his slumber. He saw the older man reach out with his hand (Colin didn't bother to flinch away; he didn't have the strength) and softly stroke the teenager's shaggy hair in attempt to comfort him (from what, Colin didn't know). As his mind followed Richard's actions, Colin's eyes began to droop once more. It was then that he noticed how tired he actually was. His head lulled towards Richard as he slowly began to drift off to sleep.

Feeling safe for the first time in years, Colin surrendered himself to his exhaustion, but not before hearing Richard whisper something so low, it was a wonder Colin could pick it up. [i]"I'm sorry, Merlin."[/i]  
[ht]  
Colin dreamed of himself, a bright smile on his face, sitting on a wooden bench, and Richard tottered over opposite of him, placing a dish of steaming chicken and a piece of bread in front of him. [i]"You are and always will be the son I never had."[/i]  
[hr]  
The memories of last night floated around aimlessly in Colin's mind as he awoke in the same room as before. He blinked warily a few times and realized he wasn't alone. He turned his head to the side and saw Richard staring down at him. The doctor had clearly been awake for a while awaiting Colin's return to reality.

"Welcome back," he said, leaning forward as Colin shifted in the bed, attempting to sit up.

Richard slid an arm under Colin's shoulders, allowing him to gain some leverage until he was fully righted, the covers falling off his torso. The boy let out a quiet moan of pain at the movement, but the doctor paid no attention. He focused on getting the teenager situated before returning to his seat. Colin raised an eyebrow in the doctor's direction, waiting for the older man to make the first move.

"How are you feeling?" Richard questioned.

Colin ignored him, choosing to get to the situation at hand. "Are you going to turn me in?"

Richard's face remained impassive. "To where?"

"The… The g-government," Colin stammered, a flush creeping up his face as he thought back to the blatant magic he had shown when he had frozen the falling glass of water.

Richard chuckled lowly, shaking his head. "Of course not, my boy. Why would I do such a thing?"

"You saw my…" Colin swallowed a lump in his throat. "You saw me use…"

"Magic?" Richard proposed, and Colin merely nodded.

"It just happens! I-I can't control it half the time," Colin announced suddenly, panic breaking out across his expression. "I don't understand why I have it or how I got it – it's always been like that. I-I've had it for as long as I can remember. I… Tom knows about it… He-He… I need to go back or he'll turn me in… I just…"

"Is Tom your foster father?" Richard interjected, and Colin nodded mutedly. Richard seemed to disappear into a quiet reverie for a few, short moments before perking up and continuing, "I want you to stay here and just rest." When Colin made a move to protest, Richard held up his hand, signaling that he required silence. Colin choked back his words, choosing to listen to the older man. "You are injured and need time to recover, which you will do before you even think about getting out of this bed. Do you understand me?"

The doctor's words were stern and strong, but they weren't overwhelming. Colin, after his many foster homes, knew which tones were threatening and which were merely giving directions. He found that he wasn't afraid of Richard at all. He had only known the man for a short amount of time, but something told him that he could trust him.

A sudden thought hit him, and he leaned forward, ignoring the pain, and stared Richard straight in the eyes. "How… How d-did you know my name?"

"Is your name Colin?" He nodded, somewhat hesitantly, and saw a content smile tug at the corners of Richard's lips. "First off, you told me last night when I found you." Colin barely had any recollection of their meeting; it was a jumbled mess within his buzzing mind. "Secondly…" Richard pursed his lips, preparing a statement, before sighing. "My name is Richard Wilson. A man named Santiago told me about you. Do you remember him?"

Colin nodded, eyes flashing with recognition at the name. "He took me in… He said you would be able to help me with my… my magic."

This changed everything, he realized. Santiago had promised that Richard would be able to understand Colin's abilities, be a saving grace to the ignorant, young warlock. How Santiago knew of Richard, Colin gathered that he would never learn, but nonetheless, he was grateful all the same. If there was a possibility that Richard could answer at least some of his questions, explain why he had these abilities, or if he could help him learn to control them, Colin would be forever in the doctor's debt.

The teenager met the older man's steady gaze. "C-Can you help me?"

Richard closed his eyes and sighed. "Of course, my boy."

[i]"B-But how[/i]?" Colin couldn't grasp the idea of how Richard could help him. Did the man have magic as well?

Richard smiled and reached down onto the floor, pulling an ancient book into view. Its pages had been damaged and were yellowed with age. It was covered in runes that, for some reason unbeknownst to him, Colin could understand as clear as day. Something called out to him; this book had a purpose. Richard placed it cautiously in Colin's lap, and the warlock held his breath as he lifted the cover and saw strange symbols written across the pages, some scrawled in a calligraphic fashion, others in another language yet handwritten.

Colin could still read them as if they were his native tongue.

"I-I don't understand," he began, casting Richard a desperate glance, but the older man chuckled lightly.

"This book was given to me when I was your age," Richard explained, studying Colin's reaction, "But I have a feeling it will be of more use to you than it was to me."

Colin leafed through the pages, awe struck, mouth open in disbelief. "But… This is a book of [i]magic!"[/i]

"Which is why you must study it," Richard said, a wide grin plastered across his face. "If you are to ever learn to control your gifts-"  
[i]  
"Gifts?"[/i]

"Of course," Richard said, "You are special, Colin."

Colin rolled his eyes, his voice taking on a sarcastic edge. "How so?"

"Well, magic requires incantations, spells. It takes years to study. What I saw you do was... elemental, instinctive," Richard relayed, gesturing towards the empty glass still sitting on the table beside Colin's bed.

Colin nodded, hanging onto the man's every word. Already in the fifteen minutes since Colin met Richard, his life was already changed for the better. "[i]You are a question that has never been posed before, Merlin."[/i] The voice interrupted his thoughts, and Colin closed his eyes, unable to pinpoint the exact moment he had heard that statement before. He chalked it up to the side effect of whatever medication Richard had given to him for the pain, and raised his gaze, staring straight at Richard.

"I'm not a monster, am I?" he joked half-heartedly, a wry smile overcoming him.

Richard placed a tender hand on Colin's shoulder, gripping it with a secure grasp. "Don't [i]ever[/i] think that." His eyes were wild, but even with the strong emotion that they portrayed, they still seemed to have aged a thousand years.

Colin scooted closer to the edge of the bed. His muscles pleaded for him to return to the blissful slumber he had risen from, but the boy needed answers. "Then why am I like this? Please, I need to know why." He searched the doctor's face for an answer. "Do you know why I was born like this? Because… if you don't know the answers… Then n-no one does."

Richard smiled. "Your gift, Colin, was given to you for a reason."

"It's not a curse?"

"No, my boy. Magic must be studied, mastered, and used for good. There is a reason behind everything," Richard admitted, tapping the open book in Colin's lap. "If you can control your magic, you will do great things."

Colin bit his lip and sighed, almost afraid to ask the question, but he did so anyway. "Will… Do you think…? Well… Do you think that you could h-help me? Learn… Control my magic, that is?"

"I'd be more than happy too," Richard said. The older man stood up and headed for the door, indicating the window beside him. "It's getting dark; get some rest."

"I… I need to go home," Colin argued. "Please… Tom, he'll…"

"Can wait," came the nonchalant reply. "You can return in the morning. Good night, Colin."

Colin gazed at Richard's retreating figure behind heavily lidded eyes. "T-Thank you."

"Sleep well," Richard noted, cocking his head, and closed the door.

Colin waited until he could no longer hear the doctor's footsteps before springing into action. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, holding back the grunt of pain that threatened to escape him. He hoisted his body off of the bed, but it nearly caused enough agony to cripple him. Opening his mouth to drag in air like sweet nectar, he let out a heart-wrenching groan that seemed to originate from deep within his core. Stealing himself for the pain, Colin moved slowly through the room, spotting his duffel bag in the far corner. After retrieving it, he made his way to the window, but not before casting a last look through the room.

He was leaving the kind man who had rescued him, and Colin hoped that he would be welcomed back some time. Perhaps Richard would allow him to visit occasionally and teach him to control his abilities – his gifts. Above all else, Colin refused to let others go through what he did on a daily basis. If it meant sacrificing his one chance at happiness and a better life, then so be it. If it meant protecting Santiago, protecting Richard – the two saving graces that fate had offered him – then so be it.

Above all else, Colin knew that even if he never had a protector, he could at least be one for others.  
[hr]  
"Welcome home," Tom called out as Colin crossed the threshold of his foster father's apartment. He ambled towards his bedroom in the back of the home, and Tom waltzed after him. "Thought I might have to track your little friend down for a while there, but then I though… 'No, Colin'll come home.' After all, he wouldn't want to bring his friend into this, would he?"

"You didn't exactly give me a choice," Colin grumbled under his breath as his dark fringe fell into his blue eyes.

"You don't even want to ask how I am?" Tom simpered. "With my little ward lost and alone in the city in the middle of winter?"

"I bet you were worried sick," Colin muttered.

Tom seized the teenager's arm in a vice grip, watching as pain flared across the younger boy's face. "You'd better hold your tongue, boy. We don't want others to be hurt for your insolence."

"Lucky you only have me to worry about," Colin answered, pushing open the door to his room, struggling to remove Tom's hand from his injured arm. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get some sleep."

"Oh no, no, no," Tom sang out in his deep, baritone voice whilst dragging Colin into the living room. He threw the younger boy, a cruel smirk upon his face, as he knelt in front of him. "You see, while you were gone yesterday, a social worker came by. Apparently, we're going to be welcoming two new roommates into our household tomorrow. How does that sound?"

"What?"

"Oh, I never told you, did I?" Tom sneered. His chocolate eyes flickered to Colin's concerned expression. "It's been in discussion the last few months, but two children are in desperate need of a home, and when I volunteered, the social worker immediately started working on getting them situated. Aren't you excited, Colin?"

"You're planning something," Colin responded hoarsely, his raw throat constricting painfully.

"Why would you assume something like that?" Tom questioned as he laughed. "As long as do what I ask, there's no reason why we can't get along with the two new fellas."

"If you think that you can hurt them to get me to go along with your schemes, you're going to be severely disappointed," Colin retorted. "I will keep fighting you. I won't stop."

"Do their lives really mean nothing to you, boy?"

"No," Colin whispered, locking Tom with his smoldering gaze. "They mean everything to me."

"How will fighting help them?"

"Because," Colin said, gathering as much strength as he could to come across intimidating. "I'll be fighting to [i]protect [/i]them."  
[hr]  
Tony's life had been thrown a curveball the moment he realized that Bradley and Katie remembered their past lives in Camelot.

Adopting the identity of Uther Pendragon for the first time in his life, the lawyer set out to give his son and daughter the space necessary so that the three of them could deal with the following events. He knew that Arthur and Morgana needed time to digest that he had remembered all their lives and tried to placate for his wrongs committed over a thousand years ago. It wasn't easy, Uther knew, to let them go on with their lives and try to understand everything without his shoulder to lean on, but he knew they needed it.

He just hoped they would eventually forgive him.

Little did Uther know, they had forgiven him long ago.

He had started spending longer nights at his office in Baltimore shortly after his impulsive visit to New York City where he discovered the truth. Now a days, he wasn't as busy. No new cases had reared their heads, demanding his utmost attention and conviction. Life was seemingly normal in the typical sense of the word, but Uther could sense a growing confrontation on the horizon. He just never knew it would show up tonight.

It began with a phone call from an unknown number. It was late that night, approaching two in the morning, but regardless, Uther answered. "Tony James, speaking. How can I help you?"

"…[i]Uther[/i]?" a hesitant voice asked, the familiarity echoing through the speaker.

Uther slowly raised his gaze, eyes burning through the receiver, almost afraid to answer the caller. After a short while, he prepared himself and spoke, "…[i]Gaius[/i]?"

"I… I need your help," Gaius announced.

Uther could tell the situation was desperate if his old friend was seeking his aid. The doctor always preferred to solve problems on his own. "What happened?"

"I found Merlin."

"Arthur's servant?" Uther questioned, unsure if he had him correctly. "I thought you said that boy had died."

"I did," Gaius said, "But it turns out his mother had me fooled. I would never have expected her to…. Listen, the point is I [i]found[/i] him, but I need your help, Uther."

"With what?"

"He's in foster care, and I want to gain custody of him."


End file.
